Fortune Favours the Brave
by muckfuffins
Summary: Captain Swan Robin Hood AU: Emma Swan is a thief on the run, but her life gets turned around when she comes across a pirate ship with an overabundance of treasures - she's not as stealthy as she'd hoped. The captain has a deal he'd like to make. A parley of sorts... Emma and Hook haven't a clue of what they are getting themselves into.
1. Ask Me Nicely

Emma Swan was no amateur. She wasn't entirely sure where she inherited these skills from; she had never met her parents and was never told stories of them or how they met. Maybe they did run in the family, and if they did, Emma would never know. Still, she was light-footed, quick, and her fingers worked delicately, allowing her to do the job with ease.

This time, it was a ship. Two days ago it pulled up to the dock, its large sails billowing in the wind. Emma had never seen a ship quite like it before, and when she watched it pull in to shore it only grew larger before her eyes. In that moment, Emma would have given anything to be on that ship, but it was no doubt a fleeting moment. She could never leave, where would she go? The Queen had threatened her numerous times that if she were to ever attempt an escape, bad things would happen. Not to Emma, though, but to Henry. As long as Emma stayed, Henry was safe, and that was all that mattered to her.

The idea came to her the next day as she peered through the trees and watched the ship anchored on the calm waters of the dock. The stories she had heard from singers and storytellers about pirates made them sound adventurous and daring, men who stole treasures and kept them in beautiful chests on their ships. Emma had never seen a pirate quite like this one. She caught a quick glimpse of the captain as he was climbing off the ship with an air of pride (and cockiness, Emma observed) as his black hair blew gracefully. There was something especially peculiar about this certain pirate, though: he was missing his left hand, which was replaced by a hook.

When dusk arrived the second day, Emma knew this was her best shot. She threw on the tattered green cloak she had stolen from the castle over her shoulders, and slid a knife into a sheath hidden underneath the cloak. She knew that the captain and his crew would be at a local bar wooing ladies and intimidating lords as night approached. Emma waited in the shadows before cautiously stepping her way across the docks, her green cloak pulled over her head, the hood hiding her face. As soon as Emma was sure there was no one on board the ship, she climbed aboard, her boots hitting the wood harder than she would have hoped for.

_Now, where would a pirate keep his treasure?_

Emma's eyes scanned the ship, noting that the Captain kept his crew busy. Everything was clean and organized, not a single speck of dirt could be seen by the naked eye. Even upon closer inspection, the ship was immaculate and it left Emma breathless for an instant. She walked up the stairs towards the ship's wheel and let her gloved fingers brush against it curiously. It was beautifully polished and carved and…_The Captain…_ she thought to herself, eyebrows rising. _They'll be in the Captain's quarters._

Taking one last look at the wheel, Emma tip-toed down the steps and found a door in the floor of the ship with a large Jolly Roger symbol engraved on it. The door was beautiful yet almost in a gruesome way, representing what she assumed was the Captain's bunk. None of the other doors had such a carving on them. She heaved it open and was instantly hit with the smell of the sea and rum. With a breath and a tilt of her head, Emma climbed down the wooden ladder and found herself in a dimly lit room.

The room was beautiful. A large feather bed sat in the corner of the room on top of several planks of wood with pillows lined up neatly against the walls on both sides. All the candles were out except for a lantern with a flickering flame inside, providing the only light for the room. Emma took a moment to take in the space and was almost impressed by how tidy this pirate had managed to keep it. She noticed a long black coat hanging on the wall, beautifully embroidered and lined with silver buttons down the front. Her hand made to grab for it before her head brought her back and reminded her of what she was really there for.

A pirate keeps his things in a chest, Emma recalled, according to all stories she knew. Emma grabbed the lantern and the flame danced as she carried it around the room, taking quick glances for what might be a hint of gold. There was a mahogany cabinet at the other end of the room that almost screamed treasure chest to her. She moved to it quickly and opened the doors to find a chest inside, locked with no key. This was no problem for her, though. She had already lived many years as a runaway from the Queen, Regina. Emma Swan was always prepared.

Out of her pocket she pulled a lock pick and began fiddling and jiggling it inside the lock, and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the well-known click and the lock fell open. Emma didn't hesitate another moment to throw open the chest, and when she did, she found herself face to face with exactly what she came for. There were pearls, jewels of every kind, gold, and coins from distant lands, everything she could have hoped for. She smiled and began stashing items into her satchel, not even bothering to look at what she was grabbing. A pirate did not need all of this, and if they did, they had no reason to keep it. It was only when she felt something cold brush up against the side of her neck that she stopped.

"You know, it's a rather cold night, lass. I doubt that cloak will do you any good," said a man's voice. His tone sounded more amused than angry to have found a cloaked woman sneaking around his ship. "Stand up, will you?"

Emma's heart was pounding in her chest now, her breath quickening as the seconds drew on. She dropped the satchel to her side and slowly rose to her feet, the cold metal pressing harder against her throat as it crawled towards her chin. She turned around, her hand slowly reaching for the knife she hid, but the pirate saw her.

"Ah, ah!" he scolded, and shook his head. He reached for that arm with his free hand and held it against the cabinet.

There was no mistaking his icy blue eyes and the cocky smile: Emma was definitely face to face with the captain.

"What's your name, love?" he asked, bringing his face closer so that he was only a mere few inches away from hers. Emma could feel his breath on her lips, and it made her shudder. The point of his hook was running along her jawline now, and the smile he was wearing moments ago was replaced by a scowl. "What are you doing aboard my ship?"

"_Ask me nicely_," she whispered. She stiffened against the cold metal before raising her leg and kneeing him hard. Leaving the captain cursing on the floor, she made for the door, her cloak billowing behind her. "Robin Hood."


	2. Long Gone Silver

Killian Jones was less than halfway to the bar with his crew when a shiver crept down his spine. Tonight was a cold night to be going without his coat, so before they ventured further, he made the decision to turn around and go back. He left his coat hanging on the wall and tonight seemed like a fine night to wear it. He told his men to wait for him while he strolled back to the ship, whistling a tune to himself. _Yo ho, yo ho…_

The moment he walked onto the ship, he noticed something amiss. He checked around quickly, trying to find what it is that made his stomach churn, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. Perhaps it was simply a lack of sleep, or his need for rum or a woman in his quarters. At that thought, he quietly opened his door, still wondering what it was that could possibly be awry on his ship. _His ship_. As he stepped down the stairs, he found his answer, rummaging through the chest that he had hidden away in his cabinet.

_When I said I wanted a woman in my quarters, I did not mean it like this_, Killian thought as he watched her. She seemed too preoccupied with grabbing as many treasures as she could that she didn't hear him sneaking up on her. He did commend himself, though, for how quiet he could be. In a single motion, he had his hook at the side of her neck, and a smirk formed on his lips. "You know, it's a rather cold night, lass," Killian said, leaning in. "I doubt that cloak will do you any good."

He could feel her tense up and heard her breathing quicken. When she didn't move, he frowned at the back of her head. "Stand up, will you?" Killian growled.

She dropped the satchel to her side and as she found her balance, he dug his hook further into her neck and allowed it to slowly make its way towards her chin. Killian could see her hand move towards her back, to where he knew she was hiding a weapon and shook his head at her. "Ah, ah!" A thief was never unaccompanied; he knew she had a knife hidden back there. With his right hand, he pinned her arm to the cabinet and stared. Her eyes were a pale greenish blue, and her glare was made of steel.

"What's your name, love?" he whispered. Killian brought his face towards hers until their noses were barely touching, and he was no longer smiling. He felt the anger rising inside him and his face turned into a grimace. _She must have a lovely name…_ he thought to himself. He scraped the hook along her jawline, their breaths mingling together. Her scent was unfamiliar to him, she smelled almost like the forest, like pines and grass. Killian felt her shudder under his grasp. "What are you doing aboard my ship?"

"_Ask me nicely_." It was barely a whisper from her lips. For a moment, he was entranced by her, before a quick jolt and a dull, heavy painful sensation took him over. Before he could do anything else, he was on his knees, hands bracing his fall. "BLOODY HELL, WOMAN!" he bellowed, his face screwing up from the pain.

"Robin Hood." There was not a note of remorse in her voice, and it pierced him like hot metal. Without another word, she was gone.

Killian groaned as he clambered back to his feet, snagging the cabinet with his hook to pull himself back up. At this point, he didn't care if he was scratching the cabinet. The beautiful mahogany cabinet. All this pirate cared about was finding that god-forsaken woman, she needed to pay for what she took, and most importantly, pay for where her knee went. He limped toward the ladder and climbed it slowly, the pain pounding in his abdomen with every step he took. When he finally reached the top, he found his crew running for him yelling all at once.

"_Now_ you all come running," he snarled at them, grabbing onto Smee's shoulders as the man caught him. "Where did she go?"

The men looked at him bemused, looks of confusion written all over their faces. "Who is 'she', Captain?" asked one man.

"Oh, you know. The woman who went hurdling off my ship with a satchel full of treasure," Killian answered with a hint of sarcasm. The pain was beginning to fade now, but he still had troubles standing up right. The fact that she could even hit that hard deserved some acclaim, the woman was willing to fight, and she knew how. He leaned himself against the mast and wiped his forehead as a dribble of sweat ran down his brow. It certainly wasn't as cold as he remembered it being. "She calls herself 'Robin Hood'," _and_ _I will bet twenty gold coins that that is not her name_.

"Smee," Killian called, his voice dark.

"Yes, captain?"

"Find her. Find her and bring her to me."

* * *

Her legs couldn't stop, and her feet pounded against the dirt as she ran, ran faster than she could ever remember running. Emma gripped the strap of her satchel tightly, dodging trees and hitting leaves out of her face with her other hand. She couldn't look back, and didn't know if she was being followed. Her knee throbbed a little, though not as much as what it did to the Captain, she figured. That didn't matter to her. All that mattered was that she kept running, and put as much distance between her and the pirate as possible. Emma knew he wasn't going to forgive her for this; it wasn't in a pirate's nature to forgive. That was what she believed.

Emma knew that she was well out of the town by now. There were tall trees surrounding her and nothing but the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind and the birds singing their songs. She spun around to check that she wasn't followed and heaved a breath of relief when she saw no one. She decided to walk the rest of the way to the cave where she kept her items hidden. No one would find her there, no one ever did.

When she arrived, she pushed the vines out of her way and walked inside to the dark rock and lit the torch that was waiting for her. Emma plopped herself down on the ground next to her bow and quiver and opened the satchel. Inside, the treasures glimmered in the fire light. Upon closer inspection, she found rubies, sapphires, golden coins and silver and smiled to herself. _Another success._ She knelt down on the cold stone floor and poured the trinkets out in front of her and observed them one by one. Among them, there was one thing that did catch her eye. It was a golden compass that fit snugly into the palm of her hand. The arrow was moving as she observed it, and she was not entirely sure if it was working properly.

"You might come in handy," she whispered, and slid the compass's chain around her neck and stared down at it. Perhaps it was time she moved, she couldn't stay in one place forever or someone was bound to find her. These pirates were going to keep looking for her until she was found, and Emma knew that once they did, they would show her no mercy simply because she was a woman.

In the dead of night, Emma packed up her things and left the cave, taking care to leave everything the way she had found it, and left no sign that there had been someone hiding in there. She had to move quickly, to where? She didn't know yet. Emma held the compass out in front of her and trekked along through the trees, avoiding the path. There was no telling when Regina's men would come galloping down the road on their large dark horses. Her face turned into a frown when the arrow on the compass began moving in all directions, rolling from side to side not knowing where it was. The damned thing must have been broken a long time ago, and yet, she still carried it round her neck as if it were a keepsake of hers.

Suddenly, there was a sharp cracking noise that echoed through the trees, and Emma clutched her bow tighter as she whipped around. The leaves bristled in the wind, and that was the only sound she could hear now. As far as she could tell, there was no one in sight, nor had she been followed. Perhaps it was just a wolf or a fox roaming, and to her they were harmless. Nevertheless she reached behind her and slowly pulled an arrow from her quiver and drew her bow, fingers ready to shoot at the first sight of another person.

Emma went to her knees and breathed in as she pulled the bow tighter before releasing it and exhaling, her breath turning to smoke as it left her. Her stomach was doing strange things to her now; it was fluttering anxiously as she continued to watch with a sharp gaze. She had to make sure that she wasn't being followed before she continued. Emma couldn't afford to be found, not with her hooded face plastered all over the town streets. The townsfolk had no idea who she was or whether Robin was her real name, all they believed was that when an item went missing, she was to blame. After ten years, this was the only time she had ever been caught. Perhaps thieving from a thief wasn't the best idea after all. It was no longer a concern of Emma's though; he was never going to find her this far out of town.

She only got a few steps further when she finally saw what had made the crackling noise. A rather large man stepped out from the shadows, dressed in browns, the only colour in his clothes being the red hat on his head. He raised his arms at her and screamed when she drew her bow his shadow, but she quickly lowered it, eyes widened when she saw him.

"Please! Don't shoot, I'm just lost!" the man cried out, covering his head with his arms. "I'm trying to find the road to get into town, my family needs bread."

Emma cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at him. "The road isn't far from here. How did you not manage to find it?" She pulled the hood of her cloak further over her face before the man could catch a glimpse of her. She approached him, bow and arrow still held firmly in her hand and nodded her head at him. "Why are you going at this hour? Most of the townsfolk were already asleep."

The man raised his head and stared back at her, his mouth open and eyes as wide as she had ever seen any man's eyes. "My son is sick, you see," he explained slowly, scratching the back of his head.

_Yeah, right_. "You know," Emma began, stepping down closer to the round man. She brought her face close to his and grinned. "If there is one thing I am good at, it's telling when people are lying to me, and you sir, _are._ The shops aren't open at this hour, and any farmer in this kingdom would know that."

The expression on the man's face changed immediately, and before Emma could another step back, he grabbed her and placed a hand over her mouth. Emma didn't scream, though. She knew that if she did, others would hear her and this man wouldn't be the only one to find her. Instead, she attempted to shove the tip of her arrow into his face, but he grasped onto both of her arms with minimal effort. He pulled a scarf out of his coat pocket and shoved it into her mouth, tying it tightly behind her head. The scarf smelled familiar… it reminded her of the captain, when his face was so close to hers… she breathed in the scent and suddenly, her body started to feel limp.

"You're coming with me," the man said, heaving her over his shoulders. "The captain would like to see you."

He began whistling a tune as he carried on with her body slung over his shoulder, a tune Emma knew from the stories. _Yo ho, yo ho_, it went. Emma's world had begun to fade to black. There was nothing left but the man's whistles, and soon enough they were gone, too._ A pirate's life for me…_


	3. Parley

Back and forth, back and forth, Killian paced across his ship anxiously, the fingers on his right hand fiddling with the tip of the hook. It had been several hours since he had sent Smee into the woods to find her, and it was about time that he had returned, but there was no sign of the man in the red hat. Killian knew that Smee had a reputation for finding things – there was no doubt in his mind that he would bring back the hooded blonde.

With each step he took, the rage inside his stomach knotted and burned. Killian stopped for a moment and looked around him at his crew, all watching the captain with blank stares. "What the bloody hell are you lot looking at? Get to work!" he bellowed, not entirely sure what it was agitating him in the first place. Sure, she stole his jewels, but it was more than that. There were so few people who had ever bested him in his life, so few that he could count them on his one hand; she was one of them. He had confidence in Smee – he would find her, and he would then be able to take from her what he wanted. Nevertheless, his crew went to work, scrubbing every spot that they could find.

Killian had then spent the next several hours in the captain's quarters, his body unable to keep still – his crew remaining outside, cleaning the ship as he had ordered. He stood at the table in silence, the palm of his hand rubbing against the wood, splinters catching on his fingers, but Killian didn't care. In the center of the table sat a basket filled with apples, all of them a deep shade of red. He reached over and stabbed his hook into one; the apple made a delicious crunching sound as the juices spilled out over the hook, dripping onto the table. Using the knife that sat in the basket, Killian sliced the apple in two, one half falling to the floor – he took a bite off the other half still clinging to the hook. Normally, the apple's juices were to die for, but _this one_… This one left a sour taste in his mouth, rather than the usual sweetness.

He glowered at the fruit, the sourness lingering on his tongue, before he threw his arm back in a fury. The apple flew across the room in a flash of deep red and splattered against the wall, the pieces landing with soft thumps. It was shortly followed by the knife, which he threw with every bit of anger that had since nestled inside him. It stuck itself inside the wall and jiggled for a moment before lodging completely still in the wooden planks. Killian rubbed the sweat from his brow before stomping angrily back up to the deck, uttering a long string of curses under his breath.

It wasn't long before…

"Captain!" Killian turned around to find a stout man stumbling his way onto the ship, adjusting his hat. He had a cloaked body over his shoulder and Killian could see the blonde curls dangling out of the hood, falling loosely over Smee's shoulders. The scarf had worked; her body was limp and completely dead weight on Smee's broad shoulders. "Captain, I found her. She was already running." Smee let her body fall off his, and he let go of her, allowing her body to almost fall completely to the ground before Killian caught her by the arms.

"I told you to find her, not throw her," Killian snapped. _Bloody hell, for a woman she is heavy_. He struggled to get her body straightened; Killian wasn't sure what he had expected when he lifted her off the ground. With a grunt, he managed to get her up against the mast, and held her there at her shoulders with his hooked hand. "Rope," he said, beckoning to his crew. "This lass has got some explaining to do." Killian pulled the bow off from her shoulders and the quiver, too. It was a nicely carved bow, and he took a moment to admire it, as if he knew the first thing about bows and arrows. _We might need this later_, he thought to himself, and placed it to the side.

With the help of Smee and a few of his men, Killian began wrapping the rope tightly around her waist, fastening her to the mast of the ship. They brought her arms around and finished their knots, her wrists now bound around the back of the post. There was absolutely no way she was going to get out of this one.

When Killian stepped back to ensure that all of the ropes had been tightly secured, he couldn't help but stare at her. He wasn't afraid to admit that she was pretty – for a thief. He stepped closer to her and ran his hook over her shoulder, stopping for a moment to look at her before slowly sliding the strap of her satchel off; his gaze remaining on her face. When it slid to the ground, Killian picked it up and opened it and dumped its contents out onto the floor of the ship in front of him. There was only one treasure he cared about keeping, and it wasn't in the satchel. _Oh, she's sneaky_, he mused to himself and he glanced up at her, the rage still tightening in his stomach.

It wasn't long before Killian noticed her eyes quivering, and her hands began to squirm. "Well, well. I think our princess is finally waking up."

* * *

When Emma finally came to, she found her arms behind her back, wrapped around what seemed to be a large post. She could feel rough spun rope cutting into her wrists, and could feel the warmth of the blood rushing to her skin's surface as she wriggled her hands. When she looked around, she saw men staring at her with anger in their eyes and swords in their hands, but none of the anger she saw matched what was written in those bright blue eyes staring at her own. Emma attempted to open her mouth to speak, but only a muffled sound came out; the scarf was still there, tied tightly around her head.

Everything leading up to her being tied to the mast of a ship was a blur, and the last thing that Emma could remember was the smell of rum and salt water, and everything going black, a tune echoing in her ears. She couldn't quite remember how it was she had gotten here or when it happened, but here she was tied to the mast of a pirate ship, the captain clearly unhappy with her.

The pirate stepped closer to her, his stare never breaking from hers as they glared at one another, fire burning brightly in their eyes. "Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger, love."

Emma didn't flinch as he reached up and yanked the scarf out of her mouth and she exhaled a deep sigh of relief, her jaw unclenching itself. She let the pain in her jawline wash over her for a moment before looking back up at the pirate, the urge to punch him growing as the seconds drew on.

"I may be a simple pirate, but I do know that it's never a good idea to steal from a thief," he told her matter-of-factly. He held the satchel up, the strap dangling from his hook. He had a grin that made Emma's anger scream louder, and she could now imagine her fist happily wiping that smile off of his face.

"You're one to talk, pirate," Emma retorted, rolling her eyes at him.

The captain chuckled, the rest of the crew joining in with a taunting laughter. "She's a tough lass," he called out to them, taking another step towards her. When he saw her staring at her, his own merriment died down, closely followed by the rest of the crew. There was a moment of silence during which Emma shifted her arms uncomfortably before he continued. "Oh, how rude of me," he began. "The name is Killian Jones." He paused for a moment. "Although, most people have grown to calling me by a more colourful moniker: Hook."

Emma gave him a mocking smile. "Cute." She gave his hook a quick glance, watching as her satchel swayed from it, and she remembered the feel of the cold metal against the skin of her neck; the memory sent shivers down her spine again. She wondered how much longer this pirate – Hook – was going to keep her tied up, and ventured a few guesses for the reasons he could possibly still have her tied. This man was no ordinary pirate, Emma knew. The only reason she was still alive and not doomed to walk the plank was not because he had _"pirate's honour" _or whatever they liked to deem it. He wanted something more from her, and she was about to find out what it was.

Hook reached into his chest pocket and from it he pulled a piece of parchment, wrinkled and tattered. "There's no use in being stubborn, love," he said casually, and Emma watched him unfold the paper, an uncomfortable feeling forming in her gut. How he had gotten his hands on it so quickly, or how long he had it, she didn't know. Clearly he wasn't stupid, as much as Emma couldn't bear to confess. Hook held up the paper in front of her face and tilted his head back, his nose rising into the air with pride. "I know _exactly_ who you are."

Emma's attention flicked to the paper, to the pirate, and back to the paper. On it was sketched a hooded figure with long curls dangling from underneath it, falling over her shoulders. Below read a large "WANTED: ROBIN HOOD" with a list of felonies they wanted her for.

"You're the queen's _prisoner_," Hook went on. "I'm also wagering that 'Robin Hood' is not your real name. You have made quite the reputation for yourself, sweetheart."

Emma winced at the titles he was giving her, never in her life being called such names, and she had never imagined herself wanting to hit a pirate for it, either. Alas, here she was.

"What the hell do you care?" Emma asked.

"I don't." He gave her a shrug and crumpled the paper up before nonchalantly tossing it aside.

She watched as it rolled across the floor of the ship – Emma's face turned into a frown when it bounced and stopped at her feet. "So then why…?" She was very much aware of the rewards being offered should she be found and brought back to the Queen, and had been under the impression that that was why the pirate wanted her here; he had tied his knots so well, there was going to be a definite answer to 'why'.

Hook began to pace his ship and his crew's eyes followed him. "I like to think of myself as a man…" _Shocker,_ Emma thought to herself, snorting quietly. Hook raised his eyebrows at her before continuing as if he hadn't heard anything. "As a man with honour," he resumed. "So, if you would like your jewels that you _stole_ from me, you have two choices."

Emma tilted her head. "What makes you think I'm going to trust you, pirate?"

"You wound me, lass," Hook said, a note of sarcasm ringing in his voice. He sighed at her. "You should _trust me_ because I _am_ giving you the choice. This is what we pirates call a 'parley'. A … truce, if you will." He placed the satchel down onto the floor of the ship and sat himself atop a wooden box where Emma spotted her bow and arrows. If she could only just get to them, she'd be rid of this pirate and his crew.

_What could this pirate possibly want_, she asked herself, _to warrant not even bringing me back to the queen_? Most pirates – she might have believed – would have brought her back the instant they realized who she was. So why was this one so intent on keeping her here?

"You can either fight for what you stole, or –"

"They were never your jewels to begin with," Emma cut him off, and she could see his face wrinkling into a grimace.

"Darling," – he sighed – "interrupt me again and I will consider changing my mind."

"Why should I even trust a pirate?" Emma was given no reason to believe what he was telling her, or to trust in this so-called _'truce'_.

Hook chose to ignore her question and he continued all the while glancing at her with a look of great displeasure. "You can fight me for _my jewels-_" Emma snorted at the emphasis of his words, "–and should you lose, you will be returned to the queen." He paused for a moment to take in the look that formed on her face: a look of contempt and _I am so ready to hit you_. "Should you win, you may take any treasures that please you and be on your merry."

Emma considered this for a moment – she knew how dreadful her sword-fighting skills were. In fact, Emma could not remember the last time she had held a sword in her hand. Knives were much more inconspicuous, and her bow worked well for long distances and moving objects; she had never had much need for the use of a sword – perhaps it was a pirate thing. "So basically, you're telling me that it's all or nothing?"

"You seem to have forgotten the 'or' part of a bargain, love."

Emma's mouth opened for her to speak, but she quickly closed it, allowing the pirate to speak his terms.

"_Or_," Hook pressed on. The tone in his voice no less filled with disdain than it was earlier, "you can assist me."

An eyebrow raised, Emma shifted uncomfortably within the binds of the rope. There were only a handful of skills Emma knew she was good at: stealing and being able to tell a lie from the truth – none of these skills which she believed a Captain would lack. When she looked up at Hook, their eyes met briefly before she looked away again, his wicked blue gaze made her stomach do troublesome things. There were a few moments of silence during which Emma contemplated and processed her own thoughts, while the Captain and his crew awaited, uncharacteristically patient, for her to make her decision. She could see Hook at the side of her eye: he had picked up one of her arrows and was now twirling it between his fingers, watching Emma through his lashes.

"Do we have a deal?" he asked finally, breaking the quiet.

Emma observed his face for any minor changes in wrinkles, perhaps a flicker in his eyes or a smile on his lips, but his face remained stern as he waited for an answer, even with the shadows that had formed on his face from the light of the moon, and the torches on the ship. "If I help you…" Emma exhaled. "What's in it for me?"

"Your life," Hook stated. His dark brows furrowed and he took several steps towards her, still twirling the arrow. "Isn't that enough lass? Are all women this tiresome?" A few of his crew members tittered behind him as if he had said something that was _actually funny_. They were silenced by a hook, raised above their Captain's head, and Emma saw it glimmer in the torchlight illuminating from the docks. "I know how much you don't want to go back to that castle, darling." Hook's voice was no louder than a whisper now, as if desperate to prevent his crew from eavesdropping now. "If you do this for me, I promise you I will allow you to go without a word of your whereabouts."

Before Emma could say anything, before Hook took another step towards her, he turned around and acknowledged his men. "I think it's about time you left us alone," he demanded solemnly. There was not a single man without a look of bewilderment on his face, but not one of them protested. When Hook waved his hand at them, they immediately turned around and marched off the ship.

"What was that about?" Emma's face contorted into confusion – mouth turning downward and brows furrowing. She watched them leave in a line, a few of them glancing back over their shoulders at her with suspicious looks in their eyes.

Hook ignored her – _again_ – and treaded even closer to Emma, his eyes filled with a despair that she hadn't seen in them before. She found herself once again feeling embarrassed by the way he was looking at her, the moonlight reflecting in his deep blue eyes, and suddenly, he felt familiar to her. The look on his face echoed one that Emma was accustomed to. She was also alone with a pirate, on his ship, in the dead of night. This was all very unnerving.

"What's your name, love?" he echoed their first meeting, and Emma remembered the cold metal stinging her skin, and the way the shivers crept down her back. Hook closed the distance between them and paused.

"Robi –"

"Your _real_ name," Hook disrupted, looking at their feet.

"Why does it even matter?" Emma spat.

Hook gave her another groan. "I'm fairly certain that you're not the only one who is reluctant to trust, lass. I told you mine," he grinned, "now you can tell me yours. Perhaps you should have a little faith in me."

Emma rolled her head back and let it rest against the wooden mast, exhaling deeply. "It's Emma."

"Well, well. It's a pleasure to meet you, _Emma_." Hook smiled at her again. The tension in the air only grew as he stared at her, his lips curling into that cocky smile Emma recognized, as if proud for pulling out her name from her. That was all he was going to get, though.

When she looked at the pirate, the light the torches cast on his face made Emma tilt her head a little, and her stomach fluttered as their gaze locked on one another's. Emma could not deny that the pirate was brutally handsome – the way his hair bristled lightly in the wind, his eyes as blue as the sea as they bore into hers, and the light stubble along his chiseled jaw – as much as she hated that these thoughts were running through her head in the first place. It wasn't until Hook spoke again that Emma realized what she was doing.

"Do we have a deal, then?" he repeated.

Emma nodded. She supposed there was no real harm in helping him; he was being genuine enough. "So what exactly is it that you want me to do, Captain?" She smirked at him, and watched as slyness gleamed in his eyes.

"Well, love, the queen has a special little trinket that we will need," Hook explained. "Since you have a reputation of being adept at stealing, I need you to break in and take it from her."

"If you want me to steal something, you're going to have to do a lot better than 'trinket'," Emma scolded. She figured as much – that there was something he'd need her to steal. Not once did she consider that she would be stealing from the Queen herself. "So that's why you docked here, isn't it?"

"It's a hat," Hook answered silently, looking everywhere but at Emma.

Emma leaned to the side as far as she could, trying to catch his eyes with her own. There was something he was not telling her about this hat. If she was to steal it, she wanted to know every catch to this so-called 'trinket', and why it was so important that it be obtained. When she was unable to find Hook's gaze, she spoke up, curious. "It's not _just_ a hat, is it?"

"This hat will guide us to where we need to go, to another land; it will serve as a portal," Hook explained. He started to strut around the mast and Emma – she was convinced that he had entirely forgotten that she was tied there, so she wriggled a bit, attempting to loosen the ropes that continued to dig further into her wrists.

"A portal to where?" Emma didn't know much of the 'other worlds'. She had heard myths and stories about them, about how magic was necessary to travel between realms, but that was as far as her knowledge went. Emma often wondered what realm her parents had gone to – a thought that she had pushed to the far depths of her mind, rarely allowing it to resurface. A tingle of hope ran through her veins; maybe now was the time to question what had happened… For now, Emma needed to focus on the task at hand.

When he had made two full circles, Hook stopped in front of Emma and turned on his heel so that he was facing her. "A charming realm," he said cheekily. "A place called _Wonderland._"

_Wonderland_… _This just got interesting_. "What's in Wonderland that a pirate like you would go through all of this trouble to get?" None of this was made sense to Emma. She had heard tales of this realm long ago as a child – full of mysterious creatures and strange foods, a truly magical place, but nowhere she'd imagine a pirate to travel to.

"That's where matters grow complicated…" Hook took a short breath and exhaled it slowly. "Long ago, something was taken from me. Something important; I need to go to Wonderland to get it back." He was now inching closer to Emma, but this time he didn't stop when their boots were nearly touching. This time, his face was near hers again, just like it had been earlier that day. His breathing was deep and it vibrated against her skin, the shivers returning and taking over her. _It's cold tonight…_ Emma convinced herself.

Now he was so close that she could smell his hair, taste his breath – like rum and peppermint. As much as the pirate had gotten under her skin this evening, she – for just a fleeting moment – allowed herself to take him in. Her breathing was ragged and she could see it turning into wisps of smoke between them, mingling with his.

"And then?" she whispered to him, her eyes fluttering to look upon his. Emma tensed against the mast as Hook's arms wrapped around her waist, and Emma felt the cold of his hook as the metal caught on her shirt. Hook was getting much too close for Emma's own comfort but there was nowhere for her to move. She heard the sound of Hook unsheathing the knife strapped to her hip behind her and her mind began racing.

It was only a whisper, and Emma trembled as his voice roared low in her head. "Then…" There was an aching pause and she felt him smile against her hair before pulling away, knife in hand. "Then you're going to steal my heart." In one swift motion, the steel sliced through the ropes that bound her and fell into a pile on the floor.

* * *

**A/N: Phew, finally got caught up with my tumblr!  
**

**Thank you so so much to everyone who has read/reviewed/favourited/followed it so far! This is seriously my first fic in over 5 years so hopefully everything goes as planned with this. I'm having a lot of fun with it so far :) Thank you to fic-oritdidnthappen (tumblr) for beta-ing for me, I appreciate it!**

**And I hope you all enjoyed Chapter 3 :)  
**


	4. Bullseye

**CHAPTER 4 – BULLSEYE**

Emma let out a small gasp as the rope hit the floor with a quiet thud, bundling around itself at her feet. She unfolded her arms out on either side of her and allowed her red wrists to breathe – it felt like it had been more than several hours since she had last stretched out her body and she let them fall loosely to her sides with a relieved sigh. "What the –?" she whispered in bewilderment. Her eyes flashed down to the knife in Hook's hand and then back up to him, seeing the – _was that a proud?_ – grin on his face, to which Emma sent a look of disdain.

"As much as I'd have loved to keep you tied up there for a little while longer, I'm afraid we have needs to sleep." Hook tilted his head to the side and reached around Emma again. She could hear him slowly sliding the knife back into its sheath. "Let's get to bed love, before my crew returns." He bent over and picked up the long strand of rope, hanging it on his hook as he began to wrap it, his gaze fixated on her.

Emma was taken aback. "_Let's?_" she cried out, stepping away from the pirate. "By 'let's', you mean separately."

The pirate stared at her – that confident smirk was still plastered to his lips. "Lass, by 'let's', I mean we both need to rest. We've got an even longer day ahead of us." He paused, his smile roguish. "Although if you would like to join me, I would be more than honoured."

If Emma didn't know any better, her hand would have rose up and struck him across his cheek. Instead, she opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, but nothing came out but a jumble of words that not even she could fully understand. The words stopped when she felt a warm finger pressed against her lips – Hook's finger. He was hissing a "_shhh_" at her and led her down the steps to what Emma remembered as his quarters, her hand in his.

"If you are so inclined to sleep on your lonesome tonight, you can stay here," Hook told her, closing the door behind them. "I'll sleep in the crew's quarters for tonight."

Emma was examining their hands, his large one grasping tightly onto hers – there was warmth that Emma had wanted to forget. It wasn't long before she yanked her hand away from his. "Oh, so now you're going to be a gentleman?"

She watched as Hook sauntered across the room to another large mahogany cabinet – when he opened it, it was filled with all sorts of interesting articles of clothing. She saw vests, jackets, shirts with frills – everything she'd imagine a pirate would keep in his wardrobe. Hook wrenched a simple black shirt off of a hanger and slowly made his way back to Emma, holding the shirt in his outstretched hand. When Emma didn't take it, he motioned to it – still with that smirk. "I'm _always_ a gentleman."

Emma looked at his face silently for an instant. "Thank you," she uttered under her breath.

Hook nodded at her and turned on his heel. "Goodnight, Emma." He threw the door open and before leaving, he turned and gave her a small – almost melancholic – smile. The door shut with a click.

Holding the black shirt tightly in her fist, Emma took the opportunity to take a better look around the cabin. This time, she could appreciate the room for what it was, not for what riches it offered her. The flame in the lantern danced, illuminating the room in the same warm light that she remembered. The only sounds she could hear was a clock ticking – she found it perched atop his cabinet – and the sound of the sea. Her legs carried her over to the feather bed and she allowed herself to sit down upon it. For the first time in as long as Emma could remember, she had a comfortable bed. Emma threw off her own shirt – covered in dirt from the running. She examined the blouse that Hook had given her. It was as black as night, the cotton soft against her skin. When she slid it over herself, she could smell him again.

_Am I ever going to escape this?_

She pressed the collar against her cheeks and the scents surrounded her; they filled her head with images of blue ocean, white sand, places that Emma could only dream of seeing with her own eyes. Emma slid her boots and tights off and pulled the blankets over her. The bed and pillows were surprisingly soft – she could feel her body sinking into the feathered mattress and Emma and almost immediately, her mind began to drift off as well.

The last thing she saw before she blew out the lantern and shut her eyes was the captain's lonely smile.

When dawn broke and the sun reflected off the calm waves of the water, Emma found herself awoken by the rocking of the ship. She could hear seagulls echoing in the morning sky and the waves gently hitting the bottom of the ship as it rocked. For a fleeting moment, Emma felt like a pirate – she mused to herself what a life on the waters would be, venturing beyond the realm and onto other lands, other kingdoms, other worlds. The wonders were short-lived though; the door swung open and there stood the blue-eyed pirate in the arch, and he was staring at her.

Emma was wearing nothing but his shirt, one of her legs hanging off of the bed. The shirt was halfway up her back and when she finally realized that more skin was visible than she would have hoped for in an encounter with him, she frantically pulled the sheets over her. "Have you never heard of knocking?" she snapped and she brushed her tousled hair out of her eyes. Emma sat upright and glowered at the pirate, whose eyes still hadn't left her.

"This is _my_ cabin, love," he responded with certain listlessness in his voice. His tongue peeked out from the side of his lips as his eyes scanned her. The door slammed behind him and locked with a _click_. "Was my bed good to you last night?"

"Is that a trick question?" Emma peered at him silently, wrapping the covers around the lower half of her body, sheltering her naked legs.

"It would have been better if someone was in there to warm it up for you," Hook teased. He shrugged his long leather coat off of his shoulders and threw it upon the hanger attached to the back of the door. "Now, shall we?" He gestured at the table in the middle of the room and sat down in one of the two chairs on either side.

Emma got to her feet – the covers formed a skirt around her that she guarded tightly in her fist. "Can you let me put some pants on first?" She shuffled to the table and plucked her neatly folded pants up as the captain regarded her with a glint in his eyes. When he didn't answer, she threw her head back in resentment. "You don't need to _watch_," Emma snapped.

Hook laughed at her and tossed his hands up in defeat. "You're not the first woman I've seen without pants." He placed a hand over his eyes, still chuckling.

"Lift that hand off of your eyes and I hope you have another hook lying around," Emma huffed. "You might just need it."

Emma heard the laughter between his breaths, his fingers curling over his eyes tightly. "Oh, she's a prickly lass."

Her pants slid over her legs and when she took one quick glance at him before she cast the sheets aside, she snuck half a smirk before slinking to her seat.

When Emma sat herself down, there was an awkward and painful silence; it didn't break when the pair locked eyes with one another and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, looking away as the grin on Hook's face only grew.

"I see you like my shirt, lass."

Emma turned a blank face on him. "It was a nice gesture."

Hook drummed his fingers on the wooden tabletop slowly; Emma was unsure if it was out of impatience or amusement at the redness forming in her cheeks – she could only assume the latter: the smile on his lips didn't fade.

"So…" Hook began, and the stiff silence dissolved. "Since we are all slaves to time, how might you propose we get ourselves into the queen's fortress?"

Emma tilted her head, her chin resting comfortably on the palm of her hand. "So you tell _me _that you want me to steal something for you…" The creases in her brow deepened. "Yet you want _me_ to figure out a way into a castle?" What kind of a deal was this? _The bag of scum is making me do all the work._ "You want me to get in there, get something and get out; you can tell me how you want me to do it."

It was then when Hook's gratified visage vanished. "That wasn't the bargain." His voice was now deep and cold – it only lasted mere seconds though before he raised his eyebrows at her. "You're the one who broke onto my ship and into my cabin, you're the one who accepted this end of the deal, so _you're_ the one who will be finding a way in." He lifted his arms in a shrug. "You could have taken the other offer."

_You are maddening, pirate_. "_Fine_," Emma sighed. _Not like you would have known how to go about it anyway._

"Well…?"

She lifted her legs up to her chest, her feet resting on the edge of the chair. "Regina keeps the castle walls well-guarded at all times," she started slowly – as if this wasn't obvious.

"I'll tell you all about the walls I'd like to scale, love." Hook chuckled at her and he watched as she raised her chin off of her knees and gave him a tight-lipped scowl.

_He had that one ready before I even opened my mouth._ Emma returned the smirk and lowered her feet back down to the floor, and leaned across the table, her elbows supporting her weight. "Well," she whispered, "my walls have some pretty nasty guards.

Emma didn't retreat when Hook moved forward so that his face was near hers – she held her smile. "Nothing a pirate couldn't handle," he responded with a wink.

_You insufferable little…_ It didn't take long before Emma withdrew – she felt as if no matter how hard she tried, Hook always had his ways of one-upping her, like he had quips hidden up his sleeves and in his many pockets that he could find and pull out when it suited him. Rolling her eyes, Emma leaned back in the chair and glared at the amused pirate who was visibly entertained. "I think it's better if you stay here," she snapped firmly – she hoped that it left no room for argument, but with this man it was difficult to predict.

"Well, where's the fun in that, lass?" he cried out, feigning insult.

"You're just going to slow me down if you come," Emma told him as she crossed her arms sternly. "If the plan is to break in undetected, then I think you'd be better off staying behind." It wasn't only that – Emma was never in the mood for his retorts, and breaking into the queen's castle was not a time for them.

Hook pressed his hand against his chest. "Ouch…" he pouted. "Have you heard not of pirates in your life until now?" He paused for a moment, and Emma grew worrisome at his silence. She could see his expression shift ever so slightly from a grimace to a smile of satisfaction and Emma could feel her stomach dropped; she remained quiet and waited for his next proposal.

_Here it comes…_

"I bet you a single gold coin that I will be able to change your mind."

_There it is_. Emma gave him a perturbed moan. "Of course I've heard of pirates." She wriggled her fingers on the table restlessly, wondering where he was trying to go with this; being a pirate did not make him anymore or any less capable of causing trouble along the way.

"I believe I've made my point." Hook leaned his chair back and threw his arms behind him, nestling his hand and hook on the back of his neck.

"What the hell do you mean?" Emma spat. The sun had barely risen and she was already growing weary of him. It was Emma's turn to lean back in her chair, mirroring Hook's movements as he propped himself above the table again on his elbow – and he winked at her again.

"_Yo ho_, lass, yo ho." He stayed on top of the table, slowly advancing forward, shortening the distance between them.

"_No,_" she stated rigidly.

"No?" Hook's mouth turned down into a sulk.

"Yes." The word fell off of her tongue before she could stop it.

Hook licked his lips and stood upright – his hand was reaching into his pocket and he pulled out a single gold coin; Emma saw it glitter as he twirled it within his fingers teasingly. They watched one another for a moment; Emma's face was knotted with confusion. She was startled when it landed with a _clink_ in front of her, rolling in a circle before landing flat on the table. Emma looked down to it and back up to Hook, bewildered.

_Ugh, why? _"You are _not_ coming with me." _I hate pirates…_

"Love," Hook started. All of his names for Emma made her boil with rage. "The only way I won't be is if you tie me up better than I did you." He dared wink at her again as he sat himself back down, a satisfied look plastered all over his smug face. His expression didn't budge when Emma scowled at him – he sat there, fingers drumming again – and she sighed.

"Fine." When Emma saw Hook open his mouth to speak, she interjected. "On one condition…" She gave Hook a moment to respond, but he took the opportunity to nod at her, implying for her to continue. "Stay out of my way."

"Sure, love," he replied sullenly. "Although, for the record–" Hook's expression was wicked as the sun shone through the windows, half of his face hiding in the shadow. "You are welcome to tie me up later." He seemed thrilled with himself, and he gave a tiny snicker.

Emma rolled her head back – the tension in her was growing and she'd hoped that a stretch would alleviate it, but it only strained it further. "Enough, Hook…" They needed to focus on finding a way through the castle walls – or _over_ them. Emma slapped her hand down in front of her as if she had slammed her ideas on the table for Hook to see. Had she thought of all this before, they would be far past this point and well on their way to food and a magical hat.

Hook wasn't startled by the thud of her palm – he simply looked at her through his eyelashes, eyes wide with curiosity.

"How confident are you in your ability to…" Emma struggled to find the correct word, and when she continued, her head continued to ask _why_. "… Thieve?" _Is that even a word?_

Hook looked entertained. "I thought you said you knew of pirates."

"That doesn't mean I'm confident in pirates."

There was a long exhale that escaped his lips when he crossed his arms. "Again with the wounding, lass." Hiding behind that cocky smile, Emma could sense the pitch of sharp aggravation in his voice. Clearly, he was getting as frustrated with her as she was him – Emma could sense her insides twisting. "You said yourself that I _stole_ those treasures," Hook declared. "Tell me again why you have no confidence in my abilities?"

"That doesn't necessarily mean you're the captain of subtlety," Emma said pointedly.

A snicker escaped Hook's lips. "Darling, I have many a gold coin where that came from." He signaled to the golden coin that was twisting delicately between Emma's fingers now.

How long she had been fidgeting with the coin, Emma didn't know. She must have picked it up off of the table without thinking of it. Her sight shot down to the glistening coin and she clenched her fist protectively around it.

"I can bet more if you so prefer."

Emma narrowed her eyes at him. She decided to disregard him. "At nightfall, we're going to scale the walls of the castle." Emma got to her feet and threw her boots on. "You'd better be ready."

"Oh, I will be _more_ than ready." Hook also rose and with one last glint in his eyes, he turned and made for the door.

As dusk drew nearer, after Emma had filled herself up with food and rum with Hook and his crew, they set off in silence.

Hook had given her a black cloak to wear when she had gone for her green one. "Darling, green is still easily noticed," he had told her as he rummaged through his wardrobe. In his hand were two cloaks, black as night.

Emma took hold of it hesitantly and slipped it over her shoulders. The robe was made of rich velvet, soft and warm against her skin. It carried with it the same scent that the captain wore: rum and salt and peppermint – Emma quickly shook off the feelings that briefly took over her. When she looked back at Hook, he was wearing his own, embroidered and beautiful. At his waist, she noticed a sword settled in its scabbard – he probably wouldn't be good with a bow, Emma concluded, making a grab for her own weapons: her bow and quiver of arrows.

When they went on their way, the sky shone a deep orange, the sunset reflecting and rippling in the waves. They kept off of the main road, taking a distant path, immersed and shadowed in trees that stood high above their heads, some a hundred feet tall – maybe more. Emma was pushing the low-hanging branches out of her way, allowing them to fling into the captain's face as he trailed behind her, muttering strings of curses under his heavy breath. Emma laughed to herself as she heard them roll off of his tongue; the sound of the branches flicking at him was glorious.

"So…" Hook said after long bouts of silence as they reached a clearing in the trees. He staggered up behind Emma and pulled the hood off of his head. "Why 'Robin Hood'?"

Emma's feet came to an immediate halt and she could feel Hook tripping into her – he placed his arm on her shoulder and shakily regained his balance. Her eyes kept straight ahead; her heart was beating rapidly in her chest now, the pounding drumming in her head. It felt like all of the light that was once illuminating around them was slowly fading. Emma collected her thoughts and continued walking, and Hook took a place at her side.

"It's just a name," Emma said quietly, not looking at him. "There's no real reason for it; I just don't want people knowing who I am." She could feel her knuckles growing numb as her fist gripped the limb of the bow.

"No," Hook uttered softly. "It's not just a name, Emma. It's never _just a name_."

When Emma glimpsed over at him, she saw that he was no longer watching her – he was looking down at his own feet, his steps matching her own. "This one is _just a name_."

"What made you decide to take up thievery in the first place, lass?" His voice was strangely quiet.

"I – uh–" Emma couldn't find her words, she couldn't form her sentence.

Hook raised his head, but still didn't look over to her. "You were abandoned, weren't you?" Emma was taken aback by the smile that graced his lips, but it wasn't the same one he usually wore. It was familiar – it was the same tenderness that he harnessed the previous night before leaving the cabin.

Emma gave him a slight tilt of her head. "How would you know that?"

As if Hook knew what she was thinking, he continued before she could react. "I spent many years in Neverland with the lost boys…" he said with a pang of sentiment in his speech. "They all shared the same look in their eyes." He stopped in his tracks, and Emma turned her body around; she furrowed her brows and her heart was beating ever faster.

"The look you get when you've been left alone."

Emma surveyed the skies. "Yeah, well… my world ain't Neverland." A part of her wished it was.

"An orphan's an orphan." Hook was studying her face and followed suit when Emma began walking.

"What about you?" Emma felt that the subject needed to steer away from her; he was beginning to get too close for comfort. She needed to keep her own walls intact – needed to keep him away. "What's your story?"

They halted again and the twigs on the ground crunched under Hook's hard steps. "I never knew my parents, either," he whispered broodingly. The twigs cracked again as he kept on, leaving Emma behind with her thoughts.

By the time they reached sight of the castle and its massive walls, the sky had gone black and the only light they had was the light of the moon and stars glowing through the gaps in the leaves. There were shimmers of golden flames on the castle walls, and Emma spotted silhouettes of guards pacing back and forth on the top.

"We should take those guards out somehow," Hook told Emma matter-of-factly.

Emma raised her eyebrows at him and slid her bow off of her shoulder, holding it out to him. "Have you ever shot an arrow before, captain?" It was her lips' turn to wear the cocky smirk. She reached behind her and drew an arrow out of the quiver strapped to her back and shoved them into Hook's hand.

For the first time since their initial meeting, Emma saw confusion and bewilderment written in the creases that formed on Hook's face and she felt strangely proud. He wanted to be a cocky bastard, she was going to give him something to think twice about – this was it.

Emma eyed him carefully as he lined the arrow up and lifted the bow with his right hand, extending his arm in front of him. When he raised his other arm to grasp the string, she remembered that he was missing his left hand entirely and wondered if he was at all insulted by her sudden challenge.

The hook curled around the string and the arrow, holding it taut in place – the metal was gleaming in the light when he spun it.

She couldn't help herself. Emma stepped over the roots of the tree and put her hand under his elbow, straightening his right arm. "Make sure to try and keep this arm as straight as you can," she whispered, looking up at him. A flush fell over her face when he met her longingly.

Hook exhaled as he drew the bow. "Lift it up near eye-level." Emma's hand was still supporting his elbow. She watched his mouth open and he took a deep breath in again, his chest rising. Emma ignored stirrings in her chest and stomach when she saw the gleam of determination on his face. As it fell again, there was a sharp _twang_ and the arrow flew.

_Well, there goes another thing he gets to be cocky about_.

"How did you–" Emma was happily surprised.

"A pirate thing," Hook quipped.

Emma held out her hand and Hook read the expression on her face – he gently placed the bow into her palm and waited patiently, sliding his hands into his pockets. She could feel his eyes digging into the back of her head as she swiftly reached back and snatched another arrow. Emma wasn't usually this nervous with a bow; she wasn't sure what made this time any different than the others. _He's just a pirate_, she convinced herself – or tried to.

She was well-practiced in the art of archery: ten years when she ran from the castle and had stolen one of the guard's bows. It wasn't long before there were several arrows soaring through the air. Emma could hear the tell-tale _thunks_ as the arrows slammed through their targets. The silhouettes pacing along the walls were diminishing until there was one left, and he was running along the wall, shouting incoherent curses with his sword drawn – as if it would do any good against a silent archer.

Emma inhaled deeply, still feeling Hook watching her. Her gloved fingers were firm around the feathered end of the arrow. She let her breath go and heard the whistle of the arrow as it glided through the thick night air, and the last shadow yielded.

A laugh echoed behind her and she found Hook clambering up beside her, looking down his shoulder at her. "Impressive." He lifted his hand and signalled toward the castle. "Let's go steal a hat." He moved forward, ducking under the branches and leaves.

"Swan!" she called out to him. Hook stopped and turned around, attentive. "It's Emma Swan."

An unfairly handsome smile appeared on his face – it was warm and sincere, much unlike the others she had seen him put on. "Nice name," he replied softly. Hook pulled the hood over his head and carried on.

Emma tugged on her own and followed Hook into the darkness.


	5. What Once Was Lost

**A/N: **_Thank you to everyone for keeping up this far! I'm sorry I hadn't updated in a couple of weeks, but this chapter got fairly long (long by my writing standards) and real life got in the way. I'm really proud of this chapter... there's a lot of reading between the lines involved here so read bearing that in mind. And thanks to Kate for continuing to be the awesome beta you are! Hope you guys enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it :)_

* * *

They wandered through the trees, their cloaked faces hidden amongst the shadows. Emma pushed her way past several branches, a few of them flying back and whipping the pirate behind her again. Hook followed closely behind her, nudging his way through the twigs, damning those that thwapped him.

"_Hook_!" she hissed, whipping around. She brought her face close enough for him to hear her whispers. "_Stop it._ I'll be damned if someone hears us – I'll feed you to the crocodiles." Everything she had feared of the pirate turned out to be true, Emma discovered – he was just going to hinder her plans. _Maybe I should have taken his advice and tied him up instead_.

"Why are we taking this route anyway?" Hook snapped at her. "This isn't exactly the most unobtrusive way in, love." He poked his eyes out from under his cloak and they were gleaming with indignation. He waved his hand about as a leaf fluttered down in his face. "Need I discuss my displeasures further?"

Emma stifled a laugh and gripped his arm tighter than she had meant to and yanked him out of the moonlight. "Explain to me how taking a town's road makes it any more or less inconspicuous than taking a path lined with trees?" She shifted her weight onto her other foot and glanced around to ensure no one was in the shadows eavesdropping. "Don't you think it would look a _little_ suspicious if two hooded figures were seen wandering through the main streets?"

Hook gave her a look of defeat.

"We don't have time for this," she replied sharply. "Let's _go_ before someone finds the guards on the roof with arrows in their necks. Or worse, Regina finds them." Emma strode off and kept her pace quick – Hook had to jog to catch up.

When they reached the castle walls, Hook lowered his hood and observed its grand spikes piercing the sky. "How foreboding," he said bleakly.

Emma stepped in front of him and yanked it back over his head seconds after it had fallen. "Leave it on. You don't know who might be watching." They both gave one another the same exasperated sigh before Emma turned back to the monstrous tower and stomped over the tree roots under their feet. "Let's go."

* * *

From the satchel hanging at her side, Emma pulled out two ropes and two grapples – she stuffed a pair into Hook's arms and he scrambled to hold onto them. He hung the wrapped rope on his hook and stared at her. "Where did you get these from?" he asked dumbfounded. "Are all women's baggage this endless?" He snickered at himself.

"A thief thing," Emma mocked with a roll of her eyes. She squinted up at the top of the castle walls, hoping with all of her might that the guards were still left undiscovered. She hauled her bow off of her shoulder and drew it with the grapple and rope in her hand, holding it taught in her fingers.

They whistled through the air and there was a _clank_ when it hit the top, grabbing onto the walls. Emma did the same with the other and tugged on both ropes to ensure that they were secure.

"Nice bow work," Hook said, impressed.

Emma smiled proudly at him and gripped one rope, implying for Hook to grab the other. "How good are you at climbing one-handed?" A pang of concern rippled through her as she saw his hook gleaming in the moonlight as he, too, grasped onto the rope with his right hand.

"Is this worry I sense, my dear Swan?" He smirked his stupid smirk and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "Fear not, there are many more things I can do with my one hand."

She stared at him, unamused.

He began climbing. Emma gave a tilt of her head and followed suit, brushing off the feelings of fear and grunting as she hastily caught up to him. They had a long way to go until they would reach the top. Scaling the castle walls reminded Emma of just how tall the building truly was.

"First castle wall scale?" Hook asked when Emma reached him, and slowed down so that they could climb side by side. When Emma didn't answer, Hook laughed. "Well, you never forget your first."

"I should be asking _you_ that," Emma replied. She was not about to admit that this was indeed the first time she was climbing the walls of Regina's castle – escaping and breaking in were two very different scenarios. Her first time challenging something as tall as this; not once did she think it would be with a pirate to steal a magical hat.

"Oh love, this is nothing." Hook stopped climbing to catch his breath, clinging tightly onto the ropes.

Emma saw the muscles in his arms contracting as he held himself in place and she couldn't help but stare, eyes fluttering as she saw them clench and unclench. Her throat tightened. When Emma heard him chuckle, she looked back at him, still in a bit of a daze. "What?"

Hook eyed her intensely; Emma feared that he may have noticed her stares in the darkness, but she tried to forget it as best as she could. "There is a tale of a magical beanstalk," he explained, and swung back and forth against the wall.

"And?" Emma wanted to climb further, but his piercing eyes and low accented voice consumed her in that moment.

"We should scale it sometime." Hook grinned. "It reaches up far past the clouds. A sight to see, I'd wager."

"Is this the part where you talk about how you'd like to 'scale my walls' again?"

Hook snorted. "We can talk in more detail about that after we get the hat if you'd like."

Emma shot him a scornful glare. "What's at the top?"

"_Treasures_. More than a thief like you could ever imagine."

Emma's curiosity was piqued now. She closed her eyes for a brief instant – it felt as if Hook had just looked straight into her soul, her past, and her present; the life that Emma had lived for these ten years. _Treasures_… she mused to herself. "Don't the giants live at the top of those beanstalks?"

"No longer, love." His hook clung to the wall and made an awful screech that made Emma wince. "Haven't you heard the tales of Jack the Giant-killer?"

Emma had heard many different versions of said story. In the one she remembered vividly, there was one giant who still resided at the top of the beanstalk, the biggest and most fearsome of all the giants. She shook her head. "I don't think now's the time for story-telling."

She heard him snicker softly before she saw him continue his ascent, pulling forward of Emma again. They were near halfway to the top, and so far there were no guards shouting that there were two strange ropes grappled to the walls. They remained silent for the rest of the climb, save for the grunts when a stubborn stone jutted out of the wall.

Their hands clutched over the walls when they made it to the top – Hook swung his left arm over the wall and let the metal cling to the stone to hoist him over. When he clambered over the bricks, he extended his arm and hand to Emma. She considered it, but when she didn't take it immediately, Hook called down to her. "I understand you want to save your sense of dignity, but things might move a little faster if you just let me help you up!"

Emma's fingers slowly curled around his hand and his around hers. _No, Emma. If you want to get out alive, you have to have some faith in him_. He boosted her up and she bent over to brush the dust off of her pants before taking a glance around. What she saw was no surprise: there were at least eight or nine guards, all of whom were sprawled on the ground, their faces in pools of their own blood. As gruesome as it was to see, Emma took pride in her aim. It seemed no one had noticed – there was no sign of anyone attempting to move the dead men.

"Grab some armour," Emma ordered Hook. The only way they were going to get past the guards within the castle was to be one. She found the skinniest, shortest of men and began stripping him of his chainmail and helmet; Hook did the same with a slightly taller one.

Her cloak fell off of her shoulders, followed closely by her white blouse, leaving her only with her corset and her leggings. There was no way the shirt would look normal under the armour. She checked up on Hook, but as she turned, she was surprised when her eyes met his. He was watching her, his teeth biting into his lower lip. "Do you stare at all women like that?" she snapped aggressively, flicking her finger to imply for him to turn around.

"No, just you darling." His answer was so airy that it only made Emma angrier. "I wouldn't want you growing jealous of other women." He unfastened the buttons of his own shirt and allowed it to fall to the floor, still watching her. Now, Emma found herself eyeing him, the contraption for his hook more elaborate than she'd imagined. It wasn't the hook she noticed though; his upper arms were muscled, and his chest had a layer of coarse dark hair, his necklace dangling amongst it. She arched an eyebrow at him and her mouth unintentionally fell open in the slightest, but it was enough for the captain to notice where her gaze was wandering. The ways they tensed and relaxed when he made the smallest movement made Emma's stomach do questionable things.

"Like what you see, lass?" He was laughing at her now while he pulled the guard's tight black shirt over his head, the shadows of his muscles still visible under the dim lights flickering off of the torches. Emma took in a sharp breath and hissed a "_ssshhh_" at him before donning the queen's guard armour.

_Focus, Emma_. She ordered her stomach to stop doing whatever it was doing… to no avail, of course.

When they were fully ornamented in the heavy armour, they clanked their way down the stairs, Emma's bow and quiver on her back and Hook's sword at his hip. They strolled into the lavish halls, the armour creating echoes off of the high corridor walls.

"Any idea where the queen would have stowed away her hat?" Emma asked, praying that Hook had an answer that was better than 'I have no clue.'

"I've no clue," he shrugged.

_Damn it_.

"So what do you propose we do, _captain_?" Her emphasis on the last word made Hook turn around. The guards' helmets had visors on them that covered the wearer's face completely in a mask of black. The image of his confounded expression burned itself into the back of her head, and she hoped that he couldn't see her smiling behind the helmet covering her face. She glimpsed down at his hand, remembering of the hook and wondered what he had done with it – Emma had hoped that it was stowed away in a pocket if they needed it. She recalled the sharpness of the tip and how it slid against her skin…

"I propose we take a look around. Seems like the only thing we can do until we find it." Lacking any warning, Hook turned and swung open the nearest door to them and stepped into the darkness.

Emma hollered at him to stop, but he was as stubborn as always. She went in after him and glanced around the black room, unable to see anything. "She wouldn't just hide it in a storage closet." Emma prodded at a dusty broom handle before dragging Hook out by the arm and quietly closing the door behind them. "We have to find her chamber. _That's_ where we'll find it." She was sure of it. She remembered several things about Regina during her time in the castle under her eye: she didn't want anyone touching her items, specifically those she deemed important.

They jogged down the long empty hallway, taking care not to get noticed by anyone who may be roaming these ends of the castle at this hour. For a queen's lair, it wasn't as well-guarded as Emma expected. So far, fortune was on her side tonight.

_The faster I get this hat, the sooner I can be done with him_.

Emma broke into a run that promptly turned into a sprint, and soon, Hook was panting beside her, matching his pace to hers. There wasn't a single guard in sight, but perhaps it was due to Emma's rushing that she quite possibly could have missed them in passing. Regardless, they were not being followed and so they were safe… for now.

The end of the corridor broke into a fork – one to the left, and one to the right. "How the hell are we going to find the hat?" she riddled Hook, frustrated. The deeper they went, the harder it would be to escape.

"Shall we split?" Hook suggested, his helmeted head turning in Emma's direction.

There was a twinge of doubt that churned inside of Emma. There was no reason to feel this way, he wanted her to steal his heart in Wonderland – he _needed_ her, why would he take the hat for himself and leave her in the castle? He could easily turn her in and everything would be over for Emma. She would be right where she started again, and it was all because of _him_.

"Emma?" Hook's voice echoed in Emma's ears as her memories flooded her head.

"Yeah?" Her train of thought was muddy. "I – I uh, I'm not sure that's – I can't."

Hook reached up and removed his helmet. His hair went up in a fit of static, but it (admittedly) didn't take away from the handsome, stubble jaw, or the… "Try something new, darling," he begged in a low voice. "It's called _trust_."

She kept her helmet firmly on her head and cast her eyes down to his fingers clutching her arm and looked back up at Hook; his expression made Emma uncomfortable – like he could see right through the mask, reading every wrinkle that formed on her forehead, and every curl of her lips. "Fine," she said pointedly. "You go left, and I'll go right. Don't lose your way or else we're never going to get out of here." Emma pointed at his sword. "You know how to use that, sailor?"

"Sailor?" he spat, clearly affronted. "I prefer Captain, love." He rested his hand on the pommel of his sword now. "Of course I know how. You know how to use that?" He waggled his left arm past Emma's head to the bow resting on her shoulder.

Emma turned on her heel slowly, pausing for a moment to leer at him through the helmet. _I hope you saw that one, sailor_. She didn't look back to see if Hook really did take the left turn. Maybe it was about time she put a little faith into someone…

Her walk quickened into a sprint, but she halted abruptly when she overhead two deep voices discussing amongst themselves not far from where she stood. It would only look stranger if they had spotted her standing, frozen, watching them through the blackness over her face. Emma gave an indignant cough and paced in their direction, her movements feeling all but natural.

The two bulky men stalled her as they were passing. "You!" one called out, his voice a low grumble. "It is only us who should be manning this hallway. Back to your post, guard!" The jurisdiction in his speech made Emma's insides churn.

The other one spoke up when Emma didn't immediately respond – it was difficult, finding a man's voice within her. If she opened her mouth, they'd discover that she was a woman. "Well? Get back to your post! Don't just stand there, you fool!"

Emma didn't say a word. She continued her steady stride past the guards, who were watching her carefully.

"Wrong way," the grunting one yelled after her and the pit of Emma's stomach fell. She wheeled around, her head ready to go for her bow at the slightest movement of their feet. "Are you new here or just dense like all the rest of 'em? You move your hips like a woman."

She had already had just about enough of these two. They didn't have time to draw their weapons before Emma had her bow drawn. She couldn't compromise herself, not even in the least bit. If they wanted to threaten her, she would show them how it was done. "Reach for your swords and you'll find an arrow instead," she ordered; her stomach was thick with anxiety now.

"Oh, well it is a woman!" The other seemed pleasantly surprised at this revelation, and he inched closer to her perversely, and Emma's fingers tightened around the feathered end of her arrow.

"I dare you to take another step."

"Or _what_? You'll shoot me?" The sound of the guards drawing their swords bounced off of the corridor walls. "That's okay, because he'll bring other guards back with him if you do, and take you to the queen."

The arrow hummed as it broke through the air, flying toward the low-voiced companion. It buried itself in his leg and watched him fall to the floor in pain, clutching his thigh. _Try running now_. "You were saying?" In a flash, Emma had the guard up against the brick wall, and she listened to the shock in his breath – the triumph making her feel a tad uneasy. She had another arrow in her gloved hands, its pointed tip poking into the stranger's neck. "Next time you threaten a lady, be wary. She might know how to use one of these." There was a cry of pain as she shoved the arrow through this guard's leg. He moaned and collapsed to the ground the same way his partner did, cursing at her as she left them there. _You'll live_.

As she ran off, she began to question the legitimacy of the armour – for guarding the queen's castle, the fact that she was able to get arrows through both of their legs was slightly unnerving, as convenient as it was.

There were doors to her left, and doors to her right, and doors ahead; all of them a mystery. She opened one and behind it was an excessively lavish room with a large fireplace on the other end of the wall, large couches arranged neatly in front of it. Emma stepped inside carefully and closed the door behind her with a muffled click. She remembered rooms like this one filling up the castle – Regina had an unnecessary amount of rooms that were never used. Perhaps they were for her guards when they needed a break? Emma thought it was ridiculous, and thus, Regina would never have hidden any items in here. If she did, it was behind some magical wall. Not in this room, though. It was far too out of the way to keep anything special. Emma knew she had to venture into the heart of the castle and she had to do it carefully.

When she exited the room, she could still hear the guard's cursing one another, blaming each other for the arrows jutting out of their legs. She ran in the opposite direction of their shouts and further into the castle, opening and closing doors, her intuition telling her to go further… _Further_.

It had been at least fifteen minutes before Emma came to a large oak door, its handle golden and immaculate. There was no light coming through the bottom crack against the floor, so she opened it gingerly, poking her head through to look before stepping in.

It was a boy's room, and there was a lump on the bed, and the lump was breathing steadily – _Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale_.

There were bookshelves lining the walls that were filled with books – tales of princes and princesses from distant lands, stories of kingdoms fighting for power, and, Emma saw, _pirates_. She couldn't help but smile as she wondered where her companion had gone, and what sorts of troubles he managed to get himself into within the castle walls, if he was still _in _the castle walls, that is.

Emma made her way towards the bed to find a short-haired brunette boy tucked in under his blankets, sleeping peacefully. An ache spread its way through Emma's body as the realization washed over her. She knew exactly who this boy was, and she wanted to reach out and wake him from his slumber, tell him they were leaving, and take him away – take him away on a pirate ship to another kingdom, another realm, another world.

_Henry_.

Upon his bedside table sat a small lantern, a candle flickering inside of it. It wasn't the candle that caught her attention, though – the box the candle sat in was a beautiful metal, and carved into it were the shapes of swans. The shapes projected across the room and onto the walls, littering them with the images of the birds. There was a large book on a large wooden desk and curiosity got the better of Emma. She heaved the cover open and inside of it were drawings of all kinds. Judging by the size, there must have been hundreds of them in there. As she turned the pages, a smile crept onto her face, and it grew wider with every new page. She came across numerous designs for castles, pirate ships, three dragons… _Swans_… _Why swans?_ There was a part of her that hoped it held more meaning than the fact that they were beautiful birds, and they inhabited the lakes surrounding the town; and then Emma turned the page again.

Her eyes grew wide and she removed her helmet and mask to take a better look at the drawing. There were trees, hundreds of trees drawn in the background, and it was night. In the middle of the picture, there was a green cloaked figure, curly blonde tresses falling out from under the hood, and a bow and quiver strapped to their shoulder. "Henry…" she whispered, running her fingers along the page. She turned another page, and another – she was blown away by the number of _Robin Hood_ pictures she had come across. That her son, who had never known her, had drawn. "You're a fan, I see."

Emma reached into her satchel and pulled out a trinket that she had kept hidden in the bottoms of her bag from the pirate. It was a strand of string, beaded with beautifully painted and carved beads, and at the end hung a coin. On the coin there was a creature that looked to resemble a lion, Siamese coin Emma guessed from the pirate legends.

Her hand wrapped into a fist around it and she moved back to Henry's bed. She stood over him and watched him silently as he took each breath, and Emma wondered to herself; wondered where her parents were, wondered whether Henry was happy, wondered about the life that could have been.

Emma tried to blink back the tears.

* * *

_Left, right, left, right, right_.

Killian had to keep rigorous track of his turns – _left, left, right, left, right_ to get back to Emma. He made a left turn this time, and kept his pace steady with his long strides. How much further he had to run to find this dreadful item, he had no clue, and yet, he kept on. By now, he had lost count of how many rooms he'd entered and inspected, all of which had no signs of a top hat. He would know it when he saw it – he would recognize that hat anywhere…

"Now, if I were a hat, where would I have kept myself," he asked no one. He stood in another fork in the halls, trying to randomly decide which to proceed through, and surmised that right would be the way, and would provide easy back-tracking for when he needed to find Emma. Killian thought of the blonde and where she could possibly be. Perhaps it was her who had found her way to the hat, and that was why his path was growing exponentially aggravating.

Killian regretted not paying more attention to his surroundings when he passed several guards – three, actually – on his way, and they stopped him with a roar of their voices.

"HEY!" they all shouted in unison. "You're in our post!"

_What is with the name-calling tonight_? "Oh, my apologies," he said, raising his hands as if to show he was unarmed, despite the sword hanging from his waist. "I have business with the queen." He flinched inside, trusting that it was an excuse for a guard to leave his station.

The three burly men looked at one another, their faces invisible behind the black masks, but the doubt resonated off of them. "The queen is not in the castle," they told him. "What is your business for being here if not for the queen?" Their hands went to the pommels of their own swords.

_Well, damn it all_. Killian drew his weapon before any of them could unsheathe theirs, and there was a loud _clang_ as the metals collided, the sound vibrating off of the walls loudly. It was three against one, but Killian had enough confidence in his skills – he hoped that would pay off. The first man went down easily enough; it was a simple swipe and from his shins dripped blood as he cried out, collapsing to the ground. Killian kicked his sword away to the end of the hall and turned back in time to block the second from slicing through his arm. He backed away and managed to whip his hook out from inside the armour, and slid it onto his arm, turning it with a click. Both men were coming at him now, and it took both of his arms – sword and hook – to cut off their swings. He twisted his hook around one guard's sword while his other arm held up steadily against the other. Killian managed to whip the sword out of the guard's grip with his hook, and he heard it racket against the floor. He reached his leg behind him and gave a hard kick, sending the second guard reeling backwards.

The third man was different – he was much larger than the other two, and he held his sword in a death-lock with Killian, who moved his hook in front of him in an attempt to keep the blade away from his face. Soon enough, Killian was teetering and he felt his back slam hard against the wall, the air in his lungs being knocked out of him by the blow. He coughed in pain and glimpsed down at the sharp silver edge growing closer and closer to his neck.

"Pretty cocky to think you could take on three trained queen's guards, aren't you?" he asked, as his companions watched on, laughter escaping through their masks.

Killian smiled. "Oh, you have no idea, mate." His voice was merely a whisper and the metal against metal was making an awful high-pitched screech. Killian's knee rose up again and he heard the loud _thud_ that reminded him of his own experiences. The guard was sent to the floor hollering in agony and bellowing several curses at him. Killian stepped over him carefully and ran, leaving the three men on the floor.

"You fight dirty!" he called out, rolling, his hands clutching the tender area.

Killian turned around and shrugged, stepping backward. "Pirate, mate!" It was the fastest way out of that sword's edge. He whipped around the corner and out of the guards' sights. He chuckled at their calls and slipped his sword back into its scabbard. _So the queen is out… This makes for easier thieving._

Then it all came back to him.

The memories that Killian had pushed to the furthest depths of his mind – he had been here long ago… Everything that had happened before his heart was so suddenly taken from him was flooding back, as if being in these walls forced him to remember. There were doors, many doors, Neverland, the curse… The remnants were flooding his head, and he remembered being here, long ago – it was no wonder he had forgotten. His feet began to lead him, as if they remembered something Killian didn't, and he followed, allowing them to take course. He didn't need to backtrack; perhaps he subconsciously knew the way.

It wasn't much longer before Killian was in a dark room at the top of the castle. He stepped up spiraling staircases lined with torches. At the top was a single man stationed outside the large, familiar silver door. When he heard Killian's footsteps, he stood at full attention and his hand went directly for his weapon. "What business do you have up here, guard?"

"What is with you all and your unnecessary interrogations?" His hook was in the man's neck. With a hard yank, the hook came out smoothly, lined with deep red blood that he proceeded to wipe on the guard's armour. Killian snatched the key ring attached to his belt and begun shoving them into the keyhole, jiggling each of them around until the door opened with a loud click. _The hat will be sitting on a topmost shelf near the balcony_, his head so thoughtfully advised him.

Killian breezed across the room and there it was… sitting where he had remembered it being – when she had grabbed it and asked the pirate for a favour – a favour that he was not willing to forgive. He cautiously picked it up off of the glass shelving and examined it: after so many years, the hat had collected a layer of grey dust and was a little more tattered than he would have liked it to be. _Shame, this was a spectacular hat_.

He left the room as quickly as he had entered it, not bothering to close the door behind him. Surely, the queen would have begun to question the well-being of her castle the moment she saw the dead man at her doorstep, whom Killian took a wide step over. "Now to find the lass," he told himself. He skipped several steps on his descent back to the main parts of the castle and retraced his path. Killian pleaded that she hadn't taken the complicated turn, and that he would be able to locate her easily.

_Left, left, right, left, right._

He arrived back at the fork they had split at and kept going, passing any doors on his way. If she was in any room, the door would most certainly be open – it was too much noise and time to shut a door carefully, and he was confident in Emma for knowing that.

Killian paused briefly when he heard more voices echoing down the corridor, both uttering long strings of curses at one another. When he darted around the corner into the next hall, there were two men on the ground, both of them with arrows jammed through their legs. They were crawling for him now, begging him for help.

"Please! Get the other guards! Tell them there is an armed imposter – a woman – with a bow and arrows!" one of them said, and the other grunted painfully in agreement. "Tell them to send a message to the queen! That the castle has been breached."

He cocked an invisible eyebrow at them. "You let yourselves… two guards… get bested by a _woman_?" Killian couldn't help but give them a mocking laugh. "Perhaps I should warn the queen that her two burliest guards couldn't even take down a woman. Was it an army?" He felt almost proud of her for managing to stab their thick thighs with the thin little arrows.

"No," the other guard said slowly, clearly agitated by Killian's teasing. "It was only _one_."

Killian shook his head. "That's not something to be proud of, lad." He deserted them there, ignoring their pleas for help and their accusations that he was another intruder. The queen was not in the castle, thus, this all mattered not. All that mattered to Killian now was finding his Swan and leaving the castle with everything intact.

He came to the end of the hall now, and to his right was a door left ajar. There was a faint light coming from inside, and if he strained his ears carefully, he heard a scarcely audible sobbing. Immediately, he entered the room tentatively and saw Emma standing over a bed, clutching something tight in her hands, and she was _crying_.

"They went that way! Toward the queen's son's room!" Killian's heart skipped several beats when he heard their voices ringing, followed by heavy footsteps.

Emma must have heard it too, because she looked up and she seemed surprised to see his silhouette in the door – she knew it was him, by the way the creases in her brow changed. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stuttered.

"Hook!" She kept sneaking glimpses at him, but never held it. "Yo-you found the hat?"

His helmet and mask came off again, and he gave her a concerned stare. "Yes, but now we have to leave, Emma." Killian glanced over his shoulder as the footsteps neared. "The guards you so wonderfully bested with your arrows have found their companions, who I assume are on their ways this very moment." He reached an arm out to her again, the palm of his hand exposed. _Trust me, Swan_.

He studied her as she went between them and the boy – _back and forth, back and forth_ – and opened her hand. Killian saw the rusty coin and the string of beads, and knew what it was. One of his most prized treasure, something he had kept hidden away for many years, and somehow, Emma had managed to find it amongst all of the other treasures he'd stowed in his cabin. When Killian saw her slide it underneath the boy's pillow, he wanted to reach out and tell her _no_, but there was something stopping him. All Killian could do was stand there and watch as the woman wiped her tear-stained cheeks with the back of a gloved hand.

"_You there_!" a low voice thundered from down the passage. "Identify yourself!" Killian heard the easily recognizable sound of a sword, and he beckoned Emma to move faster.

"Love, we'd best get going," he whispered, trying his best not to wake the slumbering boy. "Before these guards do to us what you did to them."

Emma wasn't moving, and panic let itself loose inside of Killian, but he managed to subdue it. She was too preoccupied – almost hypnotized – by the boy in the blankets. Who he was, Killian could only assume, but he had a few guesses. How badly he wanted to reach out and grab her by the hand and pull her away, to tell her that she will see him again someday, but now was not the time for a reunion. There was some unidentifiable force that locked his feet in place, and all he could do was call out to her.

"Swan!" he tried. The only thing he could get out of her was a sad look, so he tried again "Swan!" This time, his voice got louder, but she didn't even grant him a glance.

"_Emma!_"

She took her first step away from the bed, and then a second, but then she hesitated.

"I'm not just going to _leave _you here, let's go!"

Emma seemed overwhelmed – he wasn't sure if it was him, or the boy, or the guard, or simply the entire situation as a whole, but if there was one thing Killian knew, it was that if they wanted to get out alive, they would have to get out now. "Let's go, love." His voice was gentle, sincere, and he heard it break. He felt the pits of his stomach sink for having to separate her and the boy. "I'm sorry, but we must move quick–" He was interrupted when he felt cold metal biting at his neck, followed by what he believed to be the trickles of warm blood. Killian was pulled into the light of the corridor, and Emma vanished from his sight.

Killian struggled with his assailant, his hooked arm reaching up to pry away the blade. He managed to get enough distance that he could call out to Emma. "Swan, get yourself out of here with the hat." His eyes widened when she didn't appear.

_Bloody hell, Swan. Don't you dare run. I will find you_.

His right hand grasped his sword and with a cry of agony, he pulled it out of the sheath, the hat secured close to his chest against his arm. "Not again…" he muttered to the man with an air of bitterness. Up, down, left and right their swords clashed, making a ruckus in the empty corridor. Surely, the boy was going to wake up this time. The man had good form – Killian had to give him that much. They swung around and he found himself once again a lock, his best attempts of keeping the hat from being sliced becoming more weary.

He wanted to drop the hat, but if he did, the guard might go for it, and he couldn't risk it. Instead, he held his ground against the large man. "Swan!" he called out again, hoping she would dive out of the room.

The guard froze when she did, bow and arrow in hand, pointing at the two of them. The look on her face was mean, and her cheeks shone from the tears. When she spoke, her voice was low and menacing – and… she was pointing the arrow… at _him_? "Enough."

"Emma, what are you doing?" Killian's heartbeat quickened.

"Saving your life," she uttered. Emma moved her arms in the slightest way and the arrow went rocketing past Killian and barely grazed his arm and hit the guard square in his. The sword dropped with a deafening _clang_. Killian and Emma didn't hesitate to run, Emma pulling out another arrow to prepare for any other guards that might come at them.

"I thought for a moment that arrow was meant for me." Killian was having no troubles keeping up with Emma as they backtracked their way out of the castle.

Emma looked over her shoulder at him. "For a second, so did I."

It bit him like the wind of a cold night at sea, and he didn't know why. He opened his mouth to retort, but the only sound that managed to escape was an indignant moan. Most times, he was able to find retaliation, but her words hurt him more than he'd anticipated. _Trust me_, he wanted to beg her, but he couldn't find it in himself to say it. Instead, he kept on. _I may be a pirate, but that doesn't make me unworthy of one's trust, lass_.

Killian ran at Emma's side and the night breeze fluttered through her hair.


	6. Hat in Hand

**A/N:** I'm really sorry that this took so long to update, but as you can see, this bad boy ended up being really, really long. This is an important chapter (as are the next handful) and I wanted to make sure it was done right, so I spent a lot of time revising and rewriting before I ended with something I was pretty happy with. Hopefully the next chapter won't take me as long. BUT here you go! I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

* * *

Their feet slammed against the ground as the ropes flew down at them with a few quick tugs; Hook wrapped his arm protectively around the hat and Emma swung the ropes across her neck and they took off – Emma matched Hook's wider steps as they dashed into the shadows of the trees. The moon was still bright in the sky, but the tell-tale glow far off on the horizon was slowly breaking through.

They stopped in a bundle of tall pines for a short rest, their breathing heavy and shallow and their shins covered in dust. Emma couldn't remember the last time she had run that quickly. She wiped the dribbles of sweat on her brow and fanned herself – how these guards could wear this armour on a daily basis was beyond her.

Emma glanced up at Hook, whose back was against the tree, with the hat propped sideways atop his head. He was grinning at her and Emma found herself unable to stifle one of her own. "You did it!" she cried out, stepping over the tree roots to him. She could feel the warmth in her cheeks spreading to the rest of her face, and her smile growing wider. Emma plucked the hat from Hook's head and turned it in her hands to examine it closer – it was a little on the tattered side, but it looked to be in good enough shape despite it sitting and collecting dust for so long.

"_We_ did it, love," Hook asserted. He exhaled a laugh when Emma carefully slid it back over his head.

Something stirred inside Emma that caught her off guard, and she reached up to wipe the wetness from her cheeks – it felt like more were waiting to break free. Emma smiled at him and attempted to break away immediately, but she found herself lost – his eyes looked as tragic as ever, and she was immersed.

She was unsure of what it was creating the lump in her throat, and Emma didn't like it. Her hands wanted to reach out to him, but instead, she carefully slipped them into the pockets of her pants and traipsed away.

Emma chose to ignore the tightening in her gut and when Hook beckoned her along, twigs snapping under their feet as they made their way to the docks – the familiar music of the waves played against the creaking boats dancing above them grew louder as Emma followed, listening to the sounds with him.

* * *

The sun was peeking over the water by the time they reached the ship, illuminating the sails with its faint yellow glow. Emma let the tenseness in her shoulders go with a single breath when she stepped onto the dock, boots clicking and clanking against the wooden planks. Beside her, Hook pulled the hat off of his head and meandered down the steps to his cabin, Emma trailing not far behind. She could finally feel the soreness in her legs with each movement she made, each descent down the stairs burning more than the last.

"Eyes forward, sailor," Emma snapped hotly.

They were shedding their armour, and she'd caught him glancing at her through the sides of his eyes. Hook replied with a chuckle and turned his gaze down, and Emma recalled the previous night when they were donning that very same armour – the way his muscles clenched as he pulled it over his arms… A memory she hastily shook out of her head.

Emma must have been staring, because Hook's voice startled her. "What happened to eyes forward, lass?" he rang out. His torso was bare now, and in the pit of Emma's stomach – _was it fascination?_ Perhaps it was a fleeting fondness – if she waited it out and looked away, it would disappear.

A shirt thumped against her chest and it grounded Emma's attention again. Wrinkled in her hands was a black button-up shirt, the frills around the collar a little too showy for her own tastes. "What's this for?" she asked. Were her own clothes not good enough anymore?

"Well, I wouldn't say no to the decision to roam my ship without it," Hook quipped airily, as if that wasn't asking for Emma's fist in his face. When he saw the look she was giving him, he raised his eyebrows as if slighted. "You asked."

Emma rolled her eyes and slid her arms into the sleeves, promptly buttoning the shirt up to her neck. She found her boots sitting at the edge of the bed and laced them, tightening the knot at the top. The shirt was a little larger than she had hoped it would be, sleeves running past her fingers and the collar sagging round her shoulders.

Ignoring his last remark, Emma glanced down at the hat perched upon the little square table in the center of the room. It sat on its top, waiting. "So," she drawled. She paced over to it and snatched it up, turning it over in her hands. She had never seen a _magical_ top hat before, and even if she had, Emma hadn't the slightest clue of where to _begin_. "We have the hat. Now, how do we get to Wonderland?"

Hook stared at her, his jaw falling open gingerly. "Through the hat, of course," he informed her, waving his hand at it. "Have we not already been through this?"

Emma tilted her head and breathed a vexed sigh. _You don't say_. "I don't think it's as simple as sticking our feet in there and expecting it to take us to where we need to go." She scanned Hook's face for any kind of answer, and saw the creases between his brows grow darker, confusion crawling up his forehead.

"We need one other thing," Hook hissed and he ran his fingers through his hair.

_You have to be kidding me_. After everything they had done, the danger she put herself in, the danger _he_ put them in – now she finds out that there was more. "Are you going to tell me that we have some other magical item we have to steal?" Emma felt the rage that had settled in her gut boiling again. _I hate pirates_. When Hook didn't provide an explanation, Emma went on, the words spilling off of her tongue like hot liquid. "You're on your own then, if you think you're going to get me to find you another _magical_ item to steal."

Doubt wrenched at her like a stormy sea would rattle a ship – Emma despised herself for saying it, but she was no one's rogue. She spun away from Hook, not waiting for his reaction and crossed to the bed where she snatched up her green cloak. Swinging it over her shoulders, she navigated her way to the door, fingers stopping at the handle.

"Emma…" Hook called out after her, and she hesitated. "You can perhaps hear me out before jumping to whatever conclusion you have mulling in that head of yours."

Emma gripped the door handle and jerked it rather forcefully, throwing it open. The brisk morning sun hit her face. "I need some fresh air." She stepped over the threshold and outside, shutting the door behind her and leaving the captain alone in his quarters. Perhaps it would give him some time to review his plan – rethink them. His crew didn't question her when she appeared; they simply watched her cross the deck and off of the ship, the wood creaking noisily under her boots. Emma needed to take herself somewhere familiar, where she had no reason to feel scared or confused; somewhere she could take a deep breath and clear her head.

Her body lead her to the trees.

For the longest time, the forest was all Emma had ever known. She had ventured so far into the pines that she swore she knew every cave, every rock, and every hole in the ground. When she reached the wood, the nostalgic aroma of dirt and pines filled her head – she was finally at home again.

Despite it all, it didn't feel right – not like it used to. The same sense of freedom it gave her in the past… it was different now – almost as if it wasn't freedom she wanted. Something more, something less, but it troubled her. Sure, Emma was where she felt she belonged, but there was still a piece missing.

She glanced over her shoulder and her breath hitched when she saw the towering spikes of Regina's castle beyond the tops of the woods. Emma stared at it like it held some important meaning to her. _It does, Emma_. The life she had lived in her prison cells for almost ten years, treated like a slave and less than human, all because of _him_. Her lips forbid his name from slipping from them – a name that she had avoided for so long; Emma certainly was not about to dig up those memories.

Emma ventured further into the trees, the morning sun peeking through the gaps in the branches and leaving small patches of sunlight on the dirt. She selected a tree with thick limbs that looked to be stable enough to hold her weight. Rubbing her hands together and coiling her fingers around the first twig, she began to climb. The soles of her boots scratched against the tough bark as she moved up and up, the blue sky growing clearer as she went.

Finding a comfortable branch to perch herself on, she threw her legs over and faced the castle. She had an unhindered view of the tall spikes, and she waited and wondered if any guards were going to discover the lifeless bodies of their friends, or those she had left in the corridors. That was the least of her worries now.

The only image that occupied her thoughts was that of Henry, sleeping peacefully, inhaling and exhaling slowly; the pictures of the swans and the green-cloaked woman in his books, or his shelves and shelves of novels. Her mouth laced into a frown and her brows crinkled in a bout of concentration. She wished there was a way to get him out, away from the castle, and away from Regina's force. Ask Hook to take them to another land on his ship – he traversed the world, knew of and seen places Emma would never have dreamed of. As a favour for helping him; he was a pirate and pirates had a code. _No –_ she stopped herself – _that would be kidnapping_.

Her legs swung back and forth beneath her and she leaned against the thick trunk of the tree, taking in the sights and smells and sounds. She could hear the muffled noises of the town square to one side and the songs of the wind in the trees and the birds on the other. Emma's fingers ran themselves against the rough crust of the tree, its familiarity only slightly comforting.

Was she growing accustomed to being elsewhere now? A place where she could be free, where she could run through the trees and scream and not live in fear of being taken back to that prison?

She pushed those disconcerting musings from her head and closed her eyes. There were many nights through her life on the run when Emma would sleep up in the trees. It was much safer than sleeping on the ground, or in a hole or cave, where she was more likely to be discovered. She only needed a short rest for her eyes – that was all. Her and Hook hadn't gotten any opportunity for shut eye since the previous night before their castle raid, and all she wanted to do was close them for a short time. Emma let them flutter shut, the sun creating a red tint on the back of her eyelids as she let herself drift off – only for a little while.

Emma dreamt of deep blue waves and the rocking of the ocean.

* * *

It could not have been very long since Emma allowed herself that short nap before she caught herself sliding – naturally. She quickly regained her balance but she froze at the sound of snapping twigs and a rustle in the bush – feet kicking up dead grass. She carefully got to her feet, locking her knees and stabilizing herself against the tree. Emma crept her way down, cautious not to create more noise. She could hear the stirring footsteps growing louder, and when the tips of her toes finally rested on the ground, Emma made a run for it and slipped the hood over her face.

Foot over foot; inhale and exhale; Emma sprinted as fast as she could – she traveled further into the thickness of the trees, swatting branches out of her way, her other hand holding her hood down on her head. Pines were catching themselves in her blond curls, but she kept on. It could be anyone, and Emma was not going to take any chances. She jumped over roots and twigs as she took herself away from the lurker. She didn't care much for the direction or where she'd end up, as long as she wasn't found. Her ears grew sharp – there was another pair of footsteps and they were catching up. Emma knew these trees better than anyone; the forest was her home and no one in these woods was going to fool Emma Swan.

Suddenly, she was in a tangle of knots dangling fifteen feet off of the ground, leaves and pines and needles flying up into her face, and she breathed in more dust than could have been healthy. She wriggled, trying to break free but the ropes were far too thick for her to breach the trap. Emma let out a long groan and her hand went for her thigh, expecting her knife to be there, but she felt nothing. She cursed at herself – it was still on the ship.

"Is this a normal day for you?" a more-than-familiar voice called out from beyond the trees. Out stepped the dark-haired, blue-eyed pirate, and the grin that he bore on his lips made Emma seethe. "I thought you knew these woods better than anyone."

"_Cut me down_," Emma gritted through her teeth, biting the insides of her gums. Her mouth was a thin line and her voice was firm. "What the hell do you think you're doing anyway, setting traps? You don't think I'm going to keep my word?"

Hook snickered. "Now, why would I do that? You're the one who ran, not me." He was venturing into fist-in-face territory again, and Emma was going to have none of it.

"So is this the only way you can catch a woman?"

Hook looked at her fiercely. "I never said anything about setting the trap, love."

"Then why are you here?" Emma's eyes narrowed at him and he seemed to notice.

"You were gone for so long, I'd begun to wonder where you'd run off to, and now I see." Hook took several steps closer to the hanging bundle of ropes and examined it. "You also didn't want to listen to what I had to say, so perhaps now would be as good a time as any. Also, I sincerely hope that you aren't under the impression that I tied these poor knots?"

Emma considered it for a moment.

When she didn't counter him, Hook carried on. "I believe you had a compass of mine?"

She pursed her lips together when he pulled it from his pocket, and the golden trinket swayed from his hook on its chain, the sun reflecting off of it.

"Please love." He shot her a sad look. "The first thing you or anyone should know about pirates is that we _know_ how to tie a knot, and this is poorly done." He waggled a stern finger at her and slid the compass back into his pocket. "Now, on the account of you running from me–"

Hook was interrupted by several other voices. He stood, frozen, eyes locked on Emma's. She beckoned away, hissing through her teeth – he seemed to understand; his hand found the pommel of his sword tucked away in its sheath, and he snuck away into the trees. He crouched low and held his breath.

"Well, looks like we got ourselves a catch, fellas!" one low voice said. There were three sets of footsteps this time, and the other two men laughed heartily. Emma rolled around to face them; it was exactly who she'd expected – the queen's guards.

Emma stuck her face through the gaps in the ropes and watched them tentatively.

"Oi!" the burlier one called out, pointing at her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper. When he unfolded it, she could see her face sketched in ink, the name _Robin Hood_ written in large bold letters underneath her hooded face. "It's Robin 'ood!" We caught Robin 'ood!"

_You wads_. "What makes you think I'm who you seek?" she called out to them. "There's no face on that 'wanted' drawing of yours. Unless you can prove to the queen who I am, she won't take me as a prisoner. I'd be just another mouth to feed."

The taller, skinnier one stumbled over the dirt beneath her. "You look the same, do you not?"

"What makes you say that?" Emma rolled her eyes.

The guard's face wrinkled into puzzlement and he glanced over his shoulder at the other guards for aid, which none of them provided – they all responded with shrugs of their shoulders. "You have a green cloak!" The guard's voice was quavering, and so was his confidence. "So does Robin Hood?"

Emma cocked an eyebrow. "I will bet you five gold coins that I'm not the only woman in this kingdom who wears a _green cloak_."

"Enough!" the burly guard growled. "I don't care who you are. You are now our prisoner and we are taking you to the queen for evading the law."

_Evading the law? I'm the one trapped_.

He yanked his sword out of its scabbard and raised it above his head. The ropes of her trap were tied around the nearest tree, and a single slice would have brought her falling. Emma closed her eyes and braced herself for her hard landing, but it never came. Instead, the guards were disrupted.

"Lads, lads!" his voice echoed. "This was my catch." Out into the clearing Hook strode, with his sword drawn. "I was here first." He granted her a fleeting glance through his lashes and Emma nodded back. _Well, this should be fun_.

"Put away your sword," the tall one said, and his friends extended their blades at him. "We are the queen's guards!"

Hook shot them an abashed frown. "I find it quite disconcerting that the _queen's guards_ have to use a hidden trap to capture a woman," he mocked. "Did you make this net?" He pointed his hook between the three of them, all of whom were clearly quite fazed. "Your knots are shoddy. Anyone can get out of these, look at them!"

Emma couldn't repress the snort that escaped her.

"P-put your sword away!" They started circling him uneasily, sputtering. Emma spotted one of the guard's hands shaking. She recalled seeing Hook in the castle, able to hold his own against three of her men, and Emma still didn't doubt him. He remained steady, his sword gripped firmly in his hand at his side.

"Let the woman go," Hook ordered. "She did no wrong. Let her go and I'll sheathe my sword."

They shook their heads, inching closer to the pirate. "She's _our_ prisoner – she's in _our_ trap!" There were a few moments of silence before, without any provocation or warning, swords clashed together and the loud metal clangs rang in Emma's ears. All three of the guards were on Hook, lunging their weapons at him – Hook dodged them craftily, blocking and evading their rigorous swings.

Emma was writhing in the trap in an attempt to break free. She spotted a bow and a full quiver strapped to the back of one of the men. _I just need to get to it_… As feeble as their knot work was, she couldn't find a weak spot for her escape – she shook, and pulled and pushed. "Hook!" Emma roared.

There was another clang. "I'm a little busy at the moment, love. Can it wait?" He managed to slip a kick in and one of the guards went stumbling backward, his sword falling from his hands. Hook heeded her shouts; a look was all they needed. His sword plunged downward, and shortly after, Emma came down as well.

She grunted when she hit hard ground and tumbled to her hands and knees, coughing the dust out of her lungs. From within the tangles, Emma scanned the fight for the bow – she spotted him extracting an arrow and readying himself, taking aim at the pirate. _Oh hell, please work_. She stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled, and it echoed violently off of the trees – all four of the men stopped and they spun around. Emma leapt at the guard and they both fell, Emma on top – she had him pinned on his stomach, face in the dirt with his arm locked behind his back in her grip. She collected an arrow from the quiver and held it to his cheek. "Thanks," she panted, and her fist slammed against his face, knocking him cold.

Emma reached for the bow and quiver and snatched them up, immediately drawing. Hook was still challenging the other two guards – he was good with his sword, she admitted – _just don't let him hear you say that_. She whistled again, catching their attention "Step away from the pirate," she commanded, the arrow aimed directly at the burly guard, her vision painting an invisible target between his eyes.

Even Hook stopped and resigned, lowering his sword to his side. His eyes searched Emma's, and she surveyed him past the arrow, reading his face as he was hers. She saw the corner of his lips twitch and his head nod subtly, and she knew what to do.

Emma trusted her feet to carry her over the branches and roots jutting up from the ground, bringing her closer to the group. "Drop them."

"Or what?" questioned the moderately sized guard, jabbing his sword in her direction.

_Are we really going to do this again, the bluff-calling?_ Emma's fingers tightened around the string, and she pulled – the feathered tip of the arrow rested firmly against the bow, waiting for its inevitable release. Emma's breathing was steady and she kept her gaze locked.

"I would put the swords down, lads," Hook insisted. "You wouldn't want to cross a woman who can shoot a bow." He tucked his own sword away into its scabbard dangling at his hips and reared his arms up beside his head – Emma felt his stare and it sent shivers up the sides of her neck, making the tiny hairs stand on end.

At the sight of the slightest movement, Emma breathed deep and let her fingers go – the arrow zipped through the air, the thrum of the twine an invigorating vibration in her ears. It pierced the guard in the arm and he yelped, and he dumped his weapon on the dirt. He staggered towards Hook, hand outstretched and reaching for his sword. His comrade went for Emma.

She pulled a second arrow from the quiver and as he collided with her, she slammed it into his leg, eliciting a wail. Emma snatched the sword from his clutches and forced him aside with a kick. The other two recovered their composure quickly and drove at them, their messy swings slicing the air. Emma met the one while Hook the other, the sword crashing with thunderous clangs. Emma underestimated the strength of the skinniest guard – she was thrust back until she was obstructed; Hook was against her, his own blade scraping against metal, the dreadful sound making her teeth grit together.

"Swan!"

"Hook?"

Emma was startled when an arm fastened around hers. It took a moment longer for her to catch on – she gave the guard a robust smack with the heel of her boot that sent him staggering before she whirled around, Hook leveraging the swing. Her feet went up into the air and found the other man's face and he teetered back and forth. Behind her, she heard swords rattling. She brought up her own to match the other guard's chaotic strokes, blocking with only inches to spare from her face. Emma spiraled around him and swept her wrist and caught him unawares – she gained the offensive and chased him as he backed away, following her rhythm with equal force.

It was a long and tiring dance – Emma's endurance with the sword was wearing thin, and she could feel the muscles in her arm aching. Her fingers squeezed the bow in her other hand, but there was no opening. The guard was swinging his sword at her, not stopping for a breath and all she could do to keep herself in one piece was to counter his blows and continue her buffeting. He closed in on her again, surveying her weaknesses and using them to his advantage – he knew that she was growing tired but there was not a moment when surrender was a viable option.

Their blades locked together again and Emma twisted them in a downward motion, the center of his face now vulnerable. With one hand, she dropped the bow and made an upswing – her tight fist struck his lower jaw, and he must have bit down on his lip. Quick as she could, Emma reached behind her and secured another arrow – he guard roared in pain when she jammed it into his side. He clenched it, groaning and dropping to his knees. Emma landed a punch to his temple, rendering him unconscious.

_Clang_!

She pivoted around, sword raised high and she encountered the pirate, his blue eyes gleaming and his brow moist, little drops of sweat dribbling down his forehead. His expression mirrored her surprise as they paused, taking in everything that had just happened. Hook's breathing was heavy and Emma's own heartbeat was rumbling in her ears. Something inside of Emma flared: fury, hatred, or loathing – she was not sure what, but she fought back, pushing him away with strength she didn't know she had. He looked taken-aback as he attempted to recover his balance.

"What the _bloody hell_ was that for?" Hook growled. He had no choice but to lift his own blade against her as Emma hurdled for him. Their swords met again and he held her there to study her face. "Swan, what are you doing?"

_I don't know_, she wanted to cry – nothing came out except for a scream. _I don't know_. It was as if Emma had lost all jurisdictions over herself as she continued her advances, pushing Hook further into the trees. "Fight _back_," she boomed. _Why aren't you fighting back?_

Hook had zero alternatives. "Have you gone mad?" He was a natural at dueling; he caught each of Emma's swings with relative ease, but he kept himself on the defensive, not once making a move for her. "It's the guards we should be fighting, not each other!" Emma saw the sadness and confusion carved into his frown as he backed away from her, staying out of her reach. "I'm not going to duel with you."

Emma felt her eyes turn hot – her vision was blurry from the forming tears, but she blinked them back. Hook was now against the trunk of a nearby tree, holding her away from him. "Why not?" _Emma, what are you trying to prove_? "You brought me to take the hat, and so we got it. You put my life on the line – you put yours on the line." There were tears slipping past her lashes now, and she was yelling. "You don't even know what to do with it!"

"Why do I have to fight back?" Hook's volume overtook hers. "Why do you want me to?"

Emma sniffed. "I ran – I walked away."

He had his hook on Emma's shoulders and he shook her gently. "So you think raising your sword against me is going to change that?" He only grew louder.

_Clang_.

It was a delicate and clumsy blow, but Hook thwarted it again, and she let it fall meekly, her arm unable to carry the heavy blade much longer. Emma inhaled sharply when she felt her back slam against the tree – Hook managed to turn them around so he had her face adjacent to his. He lowered himself to catch Emma's gaze, but she only turned away.

"Swan, look at – listen to me," Hook demanded.

She couldn't – _no,_ she couldn't look at him. He would see through the cracks forming in her barricades, the very foundation of her existence. Emma kept herself guarded, her eyes only managing as far as his lips. "I ran away," she reminded him. "I ran away from you. Why did you come for me? Why aren't you forcing me back?" No matter how hard she held onto her tears, they fell from her grasp, warm streaks staining her cheeks. "You have me here right now, and you aren't even in the _least_ bit angry with me?"

Everything was crumbling. Emma didn't know how to put it all back together.

"If you don't want to come back with me, then I will respect that, but–"

"That is _crap_!" He gave her the choice of the plank, or assisting him. At the end of the day, no matter how hard she looked at things or from what direction, there was no real choice. The decision was not hers, so why was she so desperate for an answer that she may not even want to hear? "Why the HELL did you come looking for me then?" Emma was searching for something… anything…

Hook seemed taken-aback and confused – his wrist softened on her shoulder as he leaned closer. His faltering breaths rumbled in hear ears, and they reminded her of the nights she had spent watching the waves crash against the rocks. She could smell him – like rum, peppermint, _the sea_ – like freedom. "What did you think I was going to do?" he snapped. "_Abandon_ you? After everything?"

It hit her like a sack of bricks. _Abandon_ – a word Emma spent her life fearing; it was only a word, but it held a heavy meaning. It all brought her back to Henry's room, and how much she longed to reach out to him. To grab his small hand and take him away, to tell him that she was sorry for not coming back for him. She breathed a frustrated sigh, her shoulders drooping. Emma's heart was racing as she swayed on her feet while her head spun out of control.

Emma shut her eyes against Hook's hot breath on her face. "Why, after everything, would you stay?" She sobbed. She wasn't prepared for his response – _why indulge in it then?_

"Because I was once abandoned, too. I know what it's like."

_Nope, didn't want to hear it_.

Emma's entire world shook; she felt him breaching the cracks, seeping through them with ease, like liquid. Any morsel of discretion that remained in her vanished and her mind went blank. She couldn't stop herself – her hands cupped the sides of Hook's stubble jaw and she drew him in, seizing his lips with her own. Hook muffled an "mmfph" before surrendering, dropping his sword and knitting his fingers through her hair.

Emma lost herself. She allowed her body to take in everything this man was – everything that _he _wasn't. Without much effort, he had managed to sunder her walls, and she let him in – even if it wasn't for long, Emma gave all of herself to him. She was at his mercy. Hook didn't push himself onto her, nor did he drag her in further – this was for her, and he understood that. His kiss was gentle, but there was a familiar sorrow to it, and Emma felt it in the way his hand curled through her locks and graced her tear-stained cheeks.

She breathed him in; this was what freedom tasted like; it wasn't in the trees or the sky or the sea. _This was it, right here_.

Emma cursed at herself for wanting more – for not taking more.

She shoved him away, both of their lips red and wet with anticipation. Hook's face twisted into astonishment and marvel. "Emma, what was–"

Emma squeezed past him and plucked the bow off of the ground, licking her lips. _What was that, indeed_? Her instincts told her that she was going to regret it later, but she dismissed it, hoping that if she put it behind her – left it in the thickets of the trees – so would Hook. _No, this is a pirate I'm dealing with. _Emma knew she was not going to hear the end of it. She had to remind herself of the guards lying with their faces in the dirt, inanimate and out cold.

She heard Hook stop at her side, kicking up dust. His voice was breathless and cool. "What do you propose we do with these men?" he pointed out to them with his hook sprawled about the ground in a disorganized fashion. "We can't leave these poor souls here to rot."

_Sure we can_.

No words were needed; Emma beckoned to the tangle of ropes slumped at the foot of a nearby tree and Hook nodded in agreement, a hint of amusement twitching at the side of his mouth. It took both of their muscles to move each of the men, dragging them carelessly through the mud and tossing them into the ropes like dolls. The burlier of them took longer, a bigger struggle than his partners.

"Bloody hell, what does the queen feed them?" Hook complained.

Emma discounted his commentary, pouring all of her focus into tying the guards up tight in the trap – or _trying_ to. She could still feel the tingle on her lips, and a flush crept up her neck.

With all the strength she could assemble within herself, she and Hook yanked the rope up over a thick branch – higher and higher it climbed until they reached the top, their heads bobbing underneath the weight of the wood. Emma left the knotting to Hook, and he clapped his hand against his coat with satisfaction when finished.

"I don't mean to upset you Emma," he called out to her, "but I think we make quite the team."

Emma turned to him and granted him a weak smile, her hair falling into her eyes. He looked pleased with himself, but there was something else in his grin – something that created stirrings in her stomach. _Ignore them_, she told herself. "We going back or what?" She collected her thoughts, as well as the quiver and arrows that had been scattered across the ground in the midst of their brawl.

"I would suppose so," Hook agreed. "Else my seemingly endless search for you would have been for naught." His face was brimmed with concern as Emma passed in front of him. She heard him trail behind, but he never appeared at her side – he let her lead the way back.

The silence between them was loud in her ears. Emma was used to listening to him blither on, but today, all she could hear were his footsteps and the rustling of the leaves in the light breeze. She took the quiet to concentrate on the songs she'd longed to hear – and for the first time in a long time, Emma felt at ease.

* * *

The ship was empty when they returned. "Where's your crew?" she asked, stopping in her tracks as she boarded. Hook bumped into her.

He nudged her carefully and proceeded onward to the deck of the ship. "They went into town," he explained. "I can't keep them on the bloody ship all day."

Emma's body felt heavy. She tried to move her feet forward and down the steps, but she was rooted to the spot and frozen, like there was a rope pulling her back; a voice in her mind telling her to turn around. _He said he wouldn't leave…_ she brooded. _He left – look at where you are now_.

"Alright, well…" Hook was waiting patiently, his entire body against the mast, arms crossed. "When you're ready, you are still welcome aboard my ship." He chuckled and turned to walk away, but stopped when Emma finally spoke up again.

"Did you send them to search for me?"

He spun around and raised his brows high. "I wanted to search for you myself." He moseyed over to her and stopped short of the steps. "I knew that if one of my crew were to find you, you wouldn't come back." Emma admired the half-smile on his lips. "I was right, wasn't I?"

Emma felt lighter again. She took her first step onto the ship, and then another. Perhaps it was the rocking of the boat that lulled her back. _You were right_. Emma couldn't bring herself to say it aloud – he was right about her, about them, and that scared her. "Let's get that hat working," she chimed wistfully.

They marched down into the captain's quarters, the journey on the more mundane side of things now. Hook shut the door after her, and their boots clicked loudly against the panels of the floor. The hat was sitting on its top on the table, right where Hook had left it when Emma ditched.

"Emma." Hook stepped in front of her, cutting her off. "Give me your hand." He reached out his own and his fingers invited hers. "It's cut."

When she glanced down at her hand, there was a smudge of crimson red – an open gash that she'd failed to notice – warm and wet against her stretched palm. "No, really, it's fine…" Emma made to stuff it into her sleeve but he caught her arm with his hook and tugged.

"No, it's _not_." He was insistent, his gaze not once faltering from hers.

"How gentlemanly of you," Emma scoffed, escaping his stare.

His hook cradled her hand as his right reached into his pocket. From it, he pulled a small silver flask that he brought up to his lips. Hook plucked the lid off with a quiet _pop_. Emma immediately regretted meeting his eyes – he held her there, enamoured, her cheeks turning pink.

Hook tipped the flask over her hand. It was cold, preceded by a hot stinging sensation that shot up her fingers to their tips. Emma groaned and made to jerk her hand away from the strong-smelling fluid, but Hook only secured her tighter. "What the _hell_ is that?"

"It's rum," he returned, and his tongue peeked out from the side of his mouth. He studied Emma's hand carefully, turning it over several times – the alcohol dripped off the sides of her palm and streamed along the curves of the hook. "A bloody waste of it."

Keeping her hand there, he unraveled the black scarf from around his neck. "Here's the plan…" he started. The scarf felt warm, her hand encased in it – he looped it around before starting a knot with his one hand. "Once we get to Wonderland, we sneak our way into the queen's castle – shouldn't be difficult so long as we're careful…"

Emma eyed him, his voice echoing in the back of her head. _Oh god._

"When we get in, we find the heart, and take it." Hook's head went down and his teeth closed around the material, and his hot breath tingled on the back of Emma's hand – he pulled, securing the knot, their gazes steady.

_Oh god_.

"And then?" Emma gulped.

Hook tucked the scarf into her hand and balled it into a fist. His fingers lingered over hers longer than they needed to, and Emma felt the acquainted clenching in the pit of her stomach. "And then we run like hell." It was Hook who dropped her hand, and Emma let it fall to her side weakly, her fingers still clasped around the soaked material. He carefully placed the empty flask on the table and circled around to the other side, turning his attention to the hat again.

It took Emma a moment to find her accord. She came up to the table slowly and leaned herself against it with her good hand. "So…" she began slowly in a feeble attempt to break the stillness that hung between them.

When Hook plucked the hat off of the table, she watched him orbit it between his fingers and his hook. "If I remember correctly…" he muttered, more to himself than to Emma. He gave the hat a gentle toss and it slumped on the floor, lulling on its rim before coming to a stop. "Curious…"

Emma maneuvered past the chairs and examined the hat with Hook. There it sat, silent and perfectly still. She wasn't entirely sure of what was to happen when he threw it, but Hook seemed to have _an idea_. "What?" she asked finally, looking at him.

A deep frown spun itself into Hook's brow.

"Now you're going to be secretive?" Emma blurted when he didn't answer.

He shook his head and his fingers grazed his stubble contemplatively. "That should have worked…"

Emma stooped across the table and fished for his attention. "Maybe you need magic to get a _magical portal hat_ to work?" she said pointedly. He gave her a turn of his head in her direction, and she immediately looked away, as if any eye contact would bring on any more impulses that she didn't need.

"It's not as simple as you make it out to be, lass."

Indignant, Emma crossed her arms. "Well, my last nerve is wearing thin." She didn't flinch at the glower Hook shot her then.

"And what would you like me to do about that, love?" Hook flared, and he sounded just as riled as she felt. "Would you like to vent your frustrations at the hat?" He rolled his eyes and stepped away from her, giving them both a moment to breathe – to allow room to collect themselves again.

They were silent for a while, neither of them speaking up to the other. Hook paced around the room, back and forth between his bed and the door. Emma sat at the table, drumming her fingers against the wood – that and Hook's shoes were the only sounds either of them could hear over the roaring of the waves against the galleys.

"Who was the boy?" Hook asked suddenly, taking a seat on his bed. His fingers curled around the tip of his hook, and he was fidgeting with it nervously.

Emma's eyes widened at him. "Wh-what boy?" She could feel her heartbeat quickening inside her chest now, and the butterflies awakened in her stomach. Emma had been able to put it behind her for now, to focus on the task at hand – it wasn't helping now that Hook had brought it back to light.

"The boy in the room," he answered conspicuously. "In the castle."

Emma surveyed Hook – she didn't know how to correctly answer the question. Was Henry her son? Did Emma have the right to _call_ him that? He had been raised by Regina for the past ten years, with her locked up for a majority of it. Henry _knew_ that she existed, but was he under the impression that Regina was his birth mother? Was Henry simply a fan of 'Robin Hood' and nothing more? Or did the pictures have a meaning – a reason for being there? All of these questions Emma had, but no one had the answers.

"He's… he's my…" Emma stammered but her tongue caught in the back of her throat. She couldn't find a suitable word. _No, he's not my son… I never raised him._ Emma shook her head at herself. _He still has a part of me within him…_

"Your son?" Hook finished for her. His fingers were playing with the rings on his fingers, twirling the ring he wore round his thumb.

She shrugged. "I – I don't really know what he is."

"Just because you left doesn't make you any less his mother."

Emma heard the sadness and wavering in his voice. "What makes you say that?" she asked. She was treading on thin ice now, praying that she wouldn't elicit any stronger emotions than what she saw on the surface.

Hook got to his feet and joined Emma at the table, but he didn't sit. Instead, he took the hat up off of the floor and held it out to her, waiting for Emma to take it. "Someone long ago…" he whispered unintelligibly. "It doesn't matter, though. Take this." He nudged the hat at her, and she took it, watching Hook carefully.

_But it does matter_, Emma thought. _It always matters_. She was not going to prod at the details, but she knew – he was lying to himself. The sort of events that prompted such deep-rooted sentiments, no matter who they were or how tough their exteriors were built, _always_ meant something. "What do you want me to do with it?"

The gleaming in Hook's eyes intensified – like he was anticipating something to happen with the hat in her hand. "I want you to try." It was more of a command than anything, but Emma obliged – his stubbornness wouldn't have allowed for anything else, anyways. "Think of the place you want to go – tell the hat and it will do the rest."

Quickly, he raced to the bed and snatched their satchels up off of it, and he swung them both over his shoulder before hurriedly returning to her side.

Emma inhaled sharply and readied herself for what was to come. There were two sides of this coin: failure or success, and what they would do in either circumstance, Emma would just have to wait and see. She gave it a toss and it spun on the floor, just like it did for Hook. It spun and spun. _And spun_. Emma's exhale was long and drawn out as she watched the hat anxiously, it's pace increasing with every rotation it made. Then, in a blast of purple fog, the hat grew and a portal opened, waiting for them. _How uninviting…_ Emma mused. She glanced over at him for his cue – between the loud rumbling coming from the hat and the utter shock Emma was feeling, she hadn't a clue of what she needed to do next.

"You did it!" Hook exclaimed, breathing a laugh.

_I did it?_ Emma could barely believe it herself. How the hell did _she_ manage to get the hat working? "How?" was all she managed past her tied tongue.

Hook calculated her up and down. There was a look plastered to his face that Emma didn't recognize – it was like he _knew_ that it would work, but there was still shock in the way his eyes broadened. "_Magic_," he said simply. He brought out the compass from his pocket and held it in his palm, and he extended it out to Emma. His hair billowed as air escaped the portal, creating a strong gust in the quarter.

"Ready, love?"

Emma wasn't sure if she would ever be ready for what lay ahead – for what was on the other side of the portal. She had only heard rumours – stories – of the place so famously named Wonderland. The ominous purple gateway into another realm was a whole other tale. She looked between the swirling portal and the compass in Hook's hand, and her own clenched around the rum-soaked scarf. If she was going to do this, she needed to trust. _You can't be afraid right now_, she had to remind herself. It was about time Emma took that outstretched hand.

When she placed it in his palm, he gripped hers tightly, enveloping the compass between them. He laced his fingers together in hers. "Once we jump, it's imperative that we stay together." Hook had to yell now in order to talk over the sounds being expelled from inside the hat. "Else we could get lost." Hook nodded at her for approval, and Emma returned it fervently, her face crooked with fear.

She felt Hook brace himself, and she did the same. "Here we go…" Emma said with uncertainty, her hair falling in front of her eyes. _I guess_.

Her feet left the ground with Hook's, and she held onto him for dear life, afraid of what might happen if she let go. Emma felt weightless as they fell into the indigo fog, and she lost sight of Hook; the squeezing from his fingers was at least reassuring.

Down they went – spiraling and whirling before gravity took over again. The force was pulling them down relentlessly, and her voice caught in her throat. All she managed was a gasp as she felt her feet slam against solid ground once more.


	7. Welcome to Wonderland

The sweet smell of peppers, flowers, and grass filled her nose as they stumbled through the portal, her feet meeting the ground as ungracefully as what could have been possible. Emma breathed a deep sigh of relief when she heard Hook's coughing beside her – they were still shrouded in the purple mists of the gateway. Emma still held onto his hand, their palms balmy against the other, and Hook squeezed again.

When it cleared, Emma looked over her shoulder at Hook; his hair was dishevelled and mussed much like her own. She brushed her golden strands away from her face and waved her hand in front of them, sending wisps of purple haze flitting around them. Emma stifled a cough and glanced around, and what her eyes saw was wondrous – it truly was _Wonderland_. Stepping forward, she was pulled back by Hook, her hand still gripped in his. Emma felt the redness creeping up the sides of her face and she quickly loosened her fingers and their hands fell to their hips.

"Welcome to Wonderland, lass," Hook announced from behind her, and he slipped the gold compass into his pocket. "Now remember this carefully – the number of people who come through the portal must also come out. Don't lose yourself in this land's many wonders."

Emma peeked back at him and all she could manage was a smile. She felt small – all the grass surrounding them towered high above, piercing the blue sky and drawing long, dancing shadows at their feet. She breathed in deep, taking in the different aromas. Everything Emma had seen in the world – none of it compared to this. Her senses were sparked by tantalizing mixtures of different sights, smells, sounds – every one of them unique to Wonderland.

There was a warm breeze that sifted through the air, and music rang in her ears. The tall blades of grass sang playfully in the wind, chiming their own tune. Emma watched them in awe as little crystal droplets fell from their tips and burst as they reached the ground, littering sparkles that glistened under the sun as they passed.

Hook came up beside her and slowed down to her pace. "It truly lives up to its name, does it not, love?" he noted, his voice heavy with admiration. When Emma looked at him, his eyes were locked on her instead, a gentle smile curling at the side of his lip. Her eyes fluttered with her stomach and she immediately turned away, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"So – I – where do we go?" she stammered, and she tried to hide the quavering of her voice – uncertain if it had worked. "For the heart, I mean." She stiffened herself straight and stopped, and Hook bumped into her elbow.

"The Queen's palace." As if this was going to be a simple feat – _yeah, because storming Regina's castle without a plan went real well_, Emma reflected with a roll of her eyes. "_Meaning_ we must move quickly, lass. We are slaves to time in this realm as well, and if the queen finds us–"

"We're finished." Emma didn't need Hook to tell her – and he nodded.

"Aye… That we are."

"That's great, but wouldn't it be nice, just for once, to have a pl–" She was interrupted with a cough that formed deep in her chest, and Emma panted, trying to catch what breath remained in her lungs. Around her head was a circle of coloured smoke, each ring a different colour, and then –

"_Whooo are yooou_?"

The pair whirled their heads in the direction of the long, drawling voice, and much to Emma's surprise they found a rather rotund caterpillar perched atop an even larger mushroom. He was puffing the loops of smoke at them through a pipe. Over his eyes, he wore round glasses that hid his obvious stares.

Emma and Hook remained quiet.

"I _saaaaiiiid_…" the caterpillar went on, his voice growing louder with each painfully enunciated syllable. "_Whooo? Are yooou?_"

Hook shot Emma a look of desperation and she cleared her throat. "R-Robin," she spoke up finally with a cracked voice. "Robin Hood." She made to pull the hood over her face, but she stopped just short of it and clutched the cloak closer.

"_Robiiiinnnn Hoooood_?" he echoed. Emma arched a brow at him as more rings of smoke drifted in their direction, creating little _o_'s that took the shape of the caterpillar's oversized mouth.

She nodded slowly and cast a sideways glance at Hook – she could see the wrinkles on his forehead growing deeper, confusion settling on his face that mirrored her own. "Yeah," Emma replied sharply. _We don't have time for this_. "How do we get to the queen's castle?"

The caterpillar blinked at her several times, not saying a word. Emma shifted her weight from one foot to the other and rested her hands on her waist, fingers drumming impatiently at her hips. He brought the pipe to his mouth and inhaled from it while turning his attention to Hook as if Emma hadn't said anything at all. The colourful ringlets wafted toward Hook and he glowered, coughing them away. "_Whoo are yooou_?"

_For god's sake_. Emma stepped in front of Hook and reached her arm out in front of him protectively. The caterpillar seemed affronted by her indignation, but Emma didn't wince. "Can you please just tell us whe-"

"I WAS NOT TALKING TO YOU, MISS!"

They fell back several paces, startled at the caterpillar's low, booming voice. It echoed through the tall blades of grass, rocking them from side to side. His colour faded from green to red and his lips were shaking with rage. Emma's arms fell from the weight of the metal as Hook placed his arm on hers.

"Killian Jones."

Back to green the caterpillar transformed, and he inclined his head. "Ah, I see," he uttered, more to himself than at either Emma or Hook. He tapped the pipe against his pointed chin. "Tell me, Captain…" The pit of Emma's stomach dropped. "Hooow doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail?"

He was humming now, inhaling from his pipe between every breath. Emma's hand clenched into a tight fist and she called up to him again as they quickly lost his attention. "We're looking for the quee–"

"And pour the waters of the Nile?" he interjected, and Emma could feel her knuckles turning white, the blood in her hands quickly leaving and rushing to her cheeks. She stepped forward, ready to draw her bow, but hesitated when Hook blocked her.

"We don't have time for this." Emma was hissing in his ear, her eyes not moving from the caterpillar, who was eyeing them through his dark and round spectacles.

Hook's hand clasped around her arm, and Emma's fist loosened, the muscles in her hand relaxing. "We really must be on our way – we have business with the queen." Hook cracked an awkward smile and pulled Emma forward down the yellow road, exasperated groans and curses uttered under his breath. "Bloody hell, that was more trouble than it's worth. I hate Wonderland."

They could hear him reciting his riddle as they walked away, the distance between them and his mushroom increasing exponentially with every hastened step. It hadn't been long at all, and Emma was already feeling her frustration knot in her gut, and she wondered how many more bothersome characters they were going to meet before they finally reached the queen's castle.

"Any idea what the hell that was about?"

Hook shook his head slowly, not looking over his shoulder. "He was there last I ventured here as well, and he has remained the same."

They continued down the road in almost complete silence – there were still sounds coming from the blades of grass as they swayed; sights that you could hear, smells that you could taste – Wonderland was very aptly named, but Emma was unsure if she had the patience to deal with it much longer. She saw the droplets falling to the ground again, breaking into fireworks under their feet as they passed. Strange creatures circled above their heads, their unfamiliar calls echoed in the purple sky.

Quickly, the grass faded away into shorter pieces before they were soon surrounded by grand spotted mushrooms on either side – much larger than any Emma had ever seen – and she heard her stomach growl at her in desperation. The smell that drifted from them was inviting and the temptation to reach out and break off a piece was rising, but Hook's voice startled her.

"Don't get any ideas now, love," he said with a poorly stifled laugh.

Emma's brows rose, confused. "Why? What's wrong with them?" She stopped as he did, and Emma watched while Hook broke a piece off of one mushroom and turned it over in his head to observe it. "I wasn't going to eat them – they were just a friendly reminder that I'm starving."

With a simple toss, the piece landed at their feet with a quiet _thunk_ and Emma matched Hook's long strides as they carried on. "I've heard gruesome tales of travelers taking but a single bite from these mushrooms," he began to explain, gesturing at the assortment of toadstools big and small.

"What happened to them?" Emma's curiosity was piqued, and she stared at the mushrooms in awe, taking a sudden interest in their magic. What sorts of 'gruesome tales' had formed, she could only imagine.

"Those who ate them grew to be as large as a giant, if not larger."

Emma stood tall on her tiptoes and ripped her own piece off, sniffing it. They _smelled_ normal enough – perhaps that was the point. She frowned down at it before Hook removed it from her fingers, and this piece met the same fate as its predecessor, and hit the ground. "Just from these mushrooms?" It seemed far too strange to believe, but this was _Wonderland_ – Emma needed to remind herself of this – where grass sings, and caterpillars smoke and play you with riddles, and the clouds flutter through a purple sky.

"Aye," Hook replied with a grin. "Well, who's to say what certain mushrooms will do?" His hand found a spot on her shoulder and squeezed. "Who knows, lass? One may turn you into a blossoming flower, or even a _swan_." He chuckled and Emma could feel the knots in her stomach tightening again.

It wasn't much longer before Emma could finally see an end of sorts in sight – the yellow bricked road's boundary was shrouded in great bushes that weaved left and right amongst themselves. Her breath caught in her throat and she held it there. _A maze_… Emma knew that this would not be so simple, but this was far from what she had fantasized.

"Well this isn't foreboding at all," she expressed flatly when they arrived at the maze's entrance. Emma extended her hand to touch the leaves, but they shriveled up under her fingers, sending Emma jumping back, stunned.

It was Hook who took the first step inside, and he beckoned her along. "Fear not," he reassured. "So long as we stick together, we should get through and out with relative ease."

Emma sensed the wavering in his brave voice, and his uncertainty made her insides squirm uncomfortably. "You say that with such confidence," she jabbed. She took a deep breath of air before following him through the arch of vines. "You've been through here before?"

There was warmth between Emma's fingers that she quickly latched onto, and she let him drag her inside, leading the way through the shrubs. "Come, let's go."

_Left, right, left, right, right_. It seemed that Hook's feet were doing the thinking rather than his head, but he trusted them – that was enough for Emma. She pursued not far behind, her steps mirroring his.

She went along for a long time, her feet sore as the clambered over roots and fallen twigs. She felt his pace quickening and slowing now and then and she had a sinking feeling in her gut. _Did he even know where he was going_? The sky above was darkening now to an almost deep violet, and the birds had ceased flight; it was getting late and they needed to hurry. Emma opened her mouth to speak, but she stopped when her ears caught a rustling overhead.

Pacing along the top of the maze was a cat – a purple and striped cat, whose eyes glowed in the spreading darkness. His paws were light and he made only the most subtle of sounds as he moved, but it was enough to seize Emma's attention.

"Hook?" she whispered, her eyes locked on the cat, who seemed to take an odd interest in them. "Hook, have you seen this cat before?" Emma gave his arm a light tug and he stopped, glancing carefully over his shoulder and past Emma's head.

"Just keep on," he told her, his voice quiet.

Emma couldn't _just keep on_. As they moved again, so did the striped cat, and there was a wide, toothy grin forming on its face, the glow in its eyes becoming brighter. She could hear it snickering behind them, and Emma grimaced. "Excuse me." The words came out before she could hold them back, and Hook halted immediately to disapprove in her ear.

"Yesss?"

_So it does talk_.

Emma shook the unsteadiness in her composure and straightened her back. "We're looking for the queen's castle." She saw no harm in asking – there was no way they were going to find Hook's heart before the queen found them, and they needed to speed things up if that was to change. "Can you tell us which way we need to go?"

The cat's smile only broadened. "All ways here you see…" He sprung up thoughtfully, his voice slow and drawn out. Emma's eyes narrowed at them, and then the cat's voice thundered. "ARE THE QUEEN'S WAYS!" He rested his large head on his tiny paws and his tail waved teasingly behind him.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" Emma snapped, the same rage she had felt earlier with the caterpillar bubbling its way up into her chest again. Lack of directions seemed to be a growing trend inside Wonderland, and not a single creature was willing to help alleviate that stress.

The cat's arms then twisted around themselves several times, much to Emma's disgust. "Well some go this way, some go that way." His pointed claws poked left and right and he shrugged his shoulders. "As for me, personally, I prefer the _shortcut_."

Hook was growing agitated as well, and Emma could hear him groaning beside her and he spoke up at last. "The lass asked you for directions, not for more trivial riddles."

"Oh, but this isn't a riddle, captain!" The cat was laughing now, his white teeth gleaming under Wonderland's setting sun. His smile was so wide that his eyes almost disappeared beneath the wrinkles on his striped face.

Hook and Emma exchanged vexed looks with one another. "So then answer her question," Hook demanded, and he pointed his hook at the cat as if to threaten him.

"Every adventure requires a first step," the cat told them, the pitch in his laughter rising. "Trite, but true, even here – in _Wonderland_." There was a splitting moment when Emma swore she spotted a wink of the cat's eye, but she couldn't be sure.

"So then we'll be taking our first step out of here." Emma pulled gently on Hook's hand and dragged him off, leaving the striped feline behind. This time, he didn't shadow them.

"How fine you look dressed in rage!" he hollered behind them. When they turned to shoot him one last aggravated scowl, he was gone. All that was left were his glowing white eyes, and soon, they vanished into the darkness, his taunting laughter reverberating around them.

_Dressed in rage, indeed_ – Emma was tired. The sun had almost finished setting for the night and neither had an idea of how long the darkness would last in Wonderland, or if there was any sense of time in this world. Her eyes burrowed into the back of Hook's head. His black hair was tousled and tangled from their fall. "So why are you doing this?" she wondered out loud. "Why did you decide that now would be a good time to seek help and take back your heart?"

Hook didn't turn around. Instead, he kept walking, but she could hear his breathing. "If you had lost yours, wouldn't you want it back? The opportunity presented itself…" His voice was barely loud enough to reach Emma's ears, and she had to strain them to listen. "Long ago, there was someone…"

This was certainly more than Emma had expected. "What was her name?"

They had slowed significantly since she had broken the silence. "That's not important," he uttered, and there was a twinge of bleakness.

"Well, it's not like we're getting any further in silence, are we?" Emma's eyes dropped to their hands, and she spotted a tattoo on his right wrist peeking out from under his sleeve. _Milah_, it said. Across the heart her name was embedded in was a dagger. "Might as well get to know each other a little better, don't you think?"

"Her name was Milah…" Hook finally said after a moment of quiet, still moving forward. Emma figured as much.

Emma tilted her head to the side, and her brows laced together in thought. "Where is she?" She never recalled seeing a woman aboard his ship, or hearing him talk of her. Something had happened, and as much as Emma didn't want to pry, she was curious. This _Milah_ must have a place in Hook's motives – for wanting his heart, for being so desperate to take it back. She remembered being in her own cell, under Regina's castle… It never happened, but there were definite threats. Emma's free hand clutched at her chest, and she felt her heart beating with a liveliness that hadn't been there before – like it was beating for Hook. For Milah – a woman she hadn't known. She was important to him, and Emma tried to ignore the ache in her own chest.

"She's gone." He had said it so suddenly, so abruptly that it made Emma halt in her tracks, making Hook do the same. He spun around and stared hard through his long lashes.

"What happened to her?" Emma prodded some more. It wasn't that she was nosy, _no_, she genuinely wanted to hear.

Hook's eyes cast downward and Emma's hand fell from his grasp. "She was killed." With a deep breath, he went on. "By the same man who took my hand."

Emma watched his face change from sadness to anger in a matter of seconds. She wanted for an answer, and Hook seemed to sense that.

"_Rumplestiltskin_."

The name carried a heavy meaning all throughout the kingdoms, and spanning far beyond just theirs. The realm knew of his existence – The Dark One – and he was a man to be feared. Emma had thankfully never crossed paths with him, and she hoped that it remained that way. You _never_ broke a deal with Rumplestiltskin – that much Emma knew.

"So why are you doing this? Won't it bring back all the pain? All the hurt you've felt over the years?"

Hook's voice grew cold and his stare grew colder. "To exact revenge on him. He ripped her heart out in front of me, and he needs to know that I haven't forgotten."

_Where is revenge going to get you, you stupid pirate? Other than dead._ "What are you going to do after you avenge her? What next?"

He didn't blink once. "That's not important, either," he said with a low grumble. "Why do you want to know this anyway, Swan?" Hook's eyes narrowed at her, and there was a glint in his ocean blue eyes. "Have you ever even _been_ in love?"

"_No_," Emma proclaimed, the same hardness in her voice as Hook's. A million thoughts raced through her head – images of his smile, his hands, watches, and a jail cell – it always ended with the cell. Her walls went up again – that armour she wore so close to herself stiffening and rebuilding itself. "I have never been in love." Emma stepped past him, the twigs crackling under her feet. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, and it felt like it was attempting to break free. She heard Hook follow after her several paces behind, a heavy lull in the space between them. She didn't want to talk about it anymore.

They traveled quietly for a while, neither of them speaking. It was Emma's turn to lead this time – _right, left, right, left, left_ – and there were no objections from Hook, until she stopped at a T in the maze, unsure. "We already took three left turns, and only two right." She glanced over her shoulder at Hook, who tilted his head with a thick brow raised at her.

"That makes this all very, very simple, lass."

"We've made it nowhere." It seemed true; she couldn't keep track of where they had gone, but judging from the sun, it felt as if they had only ventured further in rather than out. "I'd say we've passed this shrub more times than I can count, but… well…" She couldn't – it all looked the same, and that was what made this difficult.

"The Queen of Hearts would not make a surprise arrival at her palace that simple," Hook reminded her. "Nor would she take it well, either, but that's a story for another time." He took the initiative again, advancing ahead of her.

Emma objected with a loud moan. "Fine, but if you're wrong, don't say I didn't tell you so."

"_Trust me_."

There were those words again. Emma knew she couldn't turn back now; she was in far too deep to get out of this. She had already put all of her faith in him to where they needed to go. Of course, his motivations were a bit on the selfish side, but when she reflected on it, Emma's could have been, too. What _were_ her motives for helping out this stranger? She knew they weren't selfless, but were there underlying reasons as well – intents that even her mind had pushed to its furthest depths into denial? Her thoughts immediately went back to Henry, lying in his bed asleep and at peace.

_Or was she so naïve_? Was she doing this for her own completely selfish reasons?

"I told you that you could trust me." Hook's voice struck Emma's attention like a bell. She must have been so deep in her own mind that she hadn't noticed they made it out until a warm gust of air brushed past her face, rustling her hair into her eyes. Not far down the road was the palace, grand and magnificent under the pale light of the rising moon.

"What now?" she asked, crossing her arms at Hook.

He slid Emma's hood over her head and did the same with his, shadowing their faces in darkness. "We best hurry, before she discovers we're here." Hook didn't wait for a response – he broke into a sprint and left Emma with no choice but to keep up.

"I have a feeling she might already know," she called out matter-of-factly behind him between breaths. The lights in the palace were illuminated still, flickering behind the stained glass windows, a clear indication that Wonderland was not asleep, despite the looming darkness above. "Let's just get in there, grab what you need, and get out."

"Sounds simple enough when you say it like that, love."

"What's that supposed to mean?" After all of this time of making it sound so easy, that they were going to do just that, and now he insinuates something else? If this _"quest"_ was going to get any harder, Emma was ready to turn around and run back the other way. She was not going to risk being taken _again_ by another queen. It was enough to be imprisoned in her own kingdom, but to be a prisoner in another realm? Emma wasn't afraid of a lot of things, but that was certainly one fear she possessed.

Hook disregarded her question, but his lack of an answer was clearer than any he could have formulated. He kept his pace steady, their hoods billowing over their heads as they ran closer to the castle, and the sheer size of it was impressive and growing quickly. They bounded and sped through the grass, and Emma's legs were losing feeling, with the pain in her chest rising as she tried to keep up. They were so close – just a little further and all of this would be over. Emma had to endure this only a little longer, and then she could go home.

A drab thought coursed through her then – _where was home_?

They took a moment to catch their breaths, the palace almost within their reach. There was a guard at the front gate pacing, back and forth and back, a long pointed spear slung over his armoured shoulder. Thankfully, he hadn't taken notice to them crouching in the long grass. Hook shot Emma a single glance and she knew what she had to do. She crouched lower, her feet light against the dirt as she weaved, trying her best to stay out of the guard's line of vision. She snuck behind him and then paused, waiting for an opportune moment. It came when he turned his back to her, marching in front of the gate. Emma closed her hand into a tight fist and ran, and in one swift motion, her fist collided with the back of his head and he fell to the ground in silence, landing with a giant _thud_ and several clanks against the gravel. At his waist was a ring, and dangling from it were several odd shaped keys, which Emma only assumed were for the palace doors. _Good thinking_. She unchained them from his belt and attached them to her own, the keys jingling with each step she made.

"We can't go in through these gates, lass," Hook told her after he had caught up, desperately looking for another entrance. "If we do, it will lead us _straight_ to her, and we cannot afford to be found." He started along the wall, staring up at the top for a different way in. "The only way to avoid being found by the queen and her bloody guards is to keep moving."

"How are you going to know where she hides it?" she asked, not having thought of this prior to their arrival in Wonderland.

"I'll just know," Hook responded, stopping at an oak door twice their size. "If you lose something important – you can feel it. Open this, would you, love?"

Key by key, Emma prodded at the lock. Some were too large, and some were far too small. The ones that did fit didn't turn at all. There were at least fifty keys on this ring, and one of them had to belong to this door. She was nearing the end of the ring when – _click!_ The handle turned under Emma's strength and she and Hook heaved the door open with a grunt and they stepped inside. They went down the corridor to their left, the sound of their footsteps bouncing off of the walls. Emma was quiet, allowing Hook to concentrate on his own instinct.

It felt like hours had passed as they advanced deeper and deeper into the heart of the castle; Emma's mind had gone blank and she had been paying no attention to their directions and what turns Hook had made. Where he moved, she moved, and Emma's footsteps mimicked his – _left, right, left, right_ – it all seemed very redundant after all of the traveling and running, down stairs, around corners, and then down more stairs. It seemed odd to Emma that there had been no guards in passing as they journeyed through the castle – a much different experience than what was presented in Regina's castle. The lack of guards clearly meant _something_; no queen left her castle vulnerable, especially within, and Emma grew wary, glancing over her shoulder now and then to spot if they were being followed.

She bumped into Hook's back as he stopped – they had come to a dead end, and the bricked wall stared Hook in the face. "Dead end," she pointed out, but Hook didn't turn. Instead, his hand pressed against the wall and he pushed at it with as much strength as he could, but the tiles didn't budge. "Where are we? And that's a _wall_."

"The basement," he whispered, attempting another idle push. He spun around then, facing Emma with eyes wide and full of hope. "You… of _course_."

Emma sputtered at him in shock. "Me? What?" She let out a small gasp when Hook grabbed at her wrist and yanked her forward, lunging her at the wall, and he pressed her back against his chest. He was all Emma could smell. No more Wonderland, no more grass or spices – just a pirate. "Hook, what are you-?"

His breathing was rapid and frantic in her ear – Emma knew he could sense something behind the wall. There was a heavy atmosphere lingering over them: tenseness, emotion, _magic_. It hung there like a heavy weight ready to crash down upon their shoulders. Emma's breath hitched in her throat when she heard something else. Not her breathing, nor Hook's. There was a faint beating on the other side of the wall – a heart. Not just one. "You hear it, don't you?" Hook inquired anxiously.

Emma pursed her lips together and nodded. It frightened her, but she wanted to know more than anything what was happening on the other side of this hidden door. "What do you want me to do?" She tried to isolate the quiver in her voice, but her hand shook violently when Hook grabbed it, her fingers trembling against his.

"You have _magic_," Hook reminded her. His hand over hers, he pushed them against the wall, pressing Emma's palm against the cold marble slate. She felt something pulsing inside of her, waves of warmth crashing through her entire body, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Hook must have felt it, too – his fingers pet the back of her hand, and the warmth settled in Emma's cheeks.

Without words, without any sort of explanation, there was a loud scraping noise as the wall moved, pieces of rubble and marble falling to the floor as it lifted, allowing them further passage. What awaited them sent shivers up Emma's spine. They were in a circular room, walls and floors made of dark granite, and lined along each and every wall were small chests – hundreds, if not thousands of them, each with their own rhythm.

"Are these all hearts?" Emma gasped in disbelief. She knew hearts could be taken, but she had never been faced with so many in her life. "Wh-whose are these? Who do they belong to?" Her brain couldn't form proper sentences, frozen in shock of her surroundings. They were all beating softly, each one with a different glow. "Do you know which is yours?"

She didn't need an answer. When she turned on her heel, Hook was moving around the room quickly, scanning each column and row for the chest that would be his. He finally stopped after Emma watched him for a while, carefully pulling a chest out from its slot. Hook looked to Emma, their eyes meeting, and she could see that his were awash with fear and confusion. It was as if he was asking her to open it – as if he was afraid of what he would find inside. They stared at one another long and hard, Emma reading the wrinkles forming on his brows and the downward curve of his lips, and she knew.

Emma's shaky hands reached out and gripped the lock on the chest, but she hesitated. "You sure you want me to do this?" she insisted. She didn't want Hook to be as uncertain as he looked – he seemed afraid and conflicted, and Emma didn't want to do anything without his go-ahead. He gave her a small nod, not looking up from her fingers on the box as she clicked open the lock. The creaky lid lifted and inside the box was exactly what both expected to see: a heart, glowing bright and red, and beating. In the middle, however, was a large black spot, dark and ominous in a sea of crimson, breaking the glow like a demon attempting to claw its way out. Emma's eyes were wide when she pulled it out of its box, the throbbing noise it made growing faster and louder in her palm. "Is it…?"

"It is." Hook watched in awe as it pulsed in Emma's hands, the red glare shining off of the beads of sweat rolling down his temple. Emma couldn't help but grin at him – they had made it, it was here, and Hook was only seconds away from getting it back, what was rightfully his. No one should ever have their heart taken away. This had all seemed too easy; the fact that they had found the basement with relative ease, no guards pacing through the castle halls, no sign of the queen and her knowledge of their presence. They needed to move fast; something about this sat wrong in Emma's gut and she wanted to get out.

"Here, let me..." Emma said softly, holding the heart upright in between her fingers delicately. Their breathing calmed and there was stillness between them as Emma held it to Hook's chest. They exchanged a smile, and for a second, Emma felt herself fall. _Only for a second_. Here she was, in Wonderland, holding this man's heart in the palm of her hands – a thought she never imagined would cross her mind. He looked relieved, but also kind of sad. Hook's fingers wrapped around her wrist and he pulled his heart closer to him, the glow resonating brighter than anything Emma had ever seen. Hook exhaled loudly when Emma hesitated, holding it so close that she could feel the warmth of his body on her hands. "Is this how…?" She blinked at it and held it there carefully, and Hook nodded.

"Aye," he muttered, and stiffened against her knuckles, ready.

"Why, it's so good to see you again, Captain."

Both Emma and Hook jumped in their spots, startled by the sudden voice at the door. They turned and there stood a woman, who Emma could only assume was the queen. In front of her face she held a giant heart-shaped mask, and the could only see the beads of her eyes through the slits. Behind her were more guards than they could see, all of their spears and swords at the ready.

Clutching the heart tightly, Emma slid it behind her back and tucked it safely into the satchel at her side, hoping that the queen wouldn't notice.

Hook raised his head, the fear on his face dissolving quickly. "When something you desire is near, you'll know," he said with an air of cockiness that Emma had grown all too familiar with. "How did you know I had ventured here?"

The queen laughed heartily and removed her mask, revealing her face. She was an older woman, with brown hair streaked with white tied behind her head, curls falling loosely at the sides of her small face. She had deep, amused eyes and her lips were red as blood. "Has it been so long that you've forgotten, Hook?" She stopped just short of the pirate, her face close to his, and she grinned wider. "The queen knows everything in this land." Hook returned a smile to her before she turned to Emma; hood still pulled over her face, and examined her closely. "And who is this dull-looking girl?" she asked Hook.

"Robin Hood," Emma answered immediately, and her hand went for the bow that hung over her shoulder. "We'll be taking our leave now, _your majesty_."

"A plucky one, she is," the queen hissed through her teeth, her sarcastic vexation getting under Emma's skin. "Not so soon. I'll be taking back what's mine."

Emma's nose scrunched in disgust and her brows creased together. "Yours?" she spat, all forms of conduct having left her the moment the queen opened her mouth. There was something about her that rubbed Emma the wrong way – something _other than_ the fact that she stored thousands of hearts inside of her castle. "Since when were any of these _yours_?"

Hook was uttering something under his breath in Emma's ear, but she brushed him off. Her face was growing hot and red as the queen crossed in front of her, and they'd begun to stare one another down intensely.

"Since I took them from those who dare cross me," the queen snapped back, spit landing on Emma's face. "You're growing awfully close as well, my dear."

"Try me."

They had come this far, and it was not going to be all for naught. Emma risked her life too many times in these past couple of days to risk it all now, to lose everything they had fought for. Emma had made a deal with the pirate, and she was going to stick to it – she was going to honour her side of the deal so that she could go home. _Home_, wherever that was. If it had come down to this, Emma would find a way out of it – she always had. And then she felt it – a cold hand, a clenching in her chest, and then a squeeze. Emma's mouth fell open to cry out, but nothing came, just a gasp in pain. Hook was screaming beside her, but was thrown backwards by the guards, who had taken him by both of his arms, reeling him back.

"You foolish girl," the queen was saying, but Emma could barely hear through the loud ringing and the screams in her ear. She blinked the light away from her eyes and the queen's face came back into focus, a cruel smile on her lips as she held onto Emma's heart. Emma could feel her fingers coiling around it, and then she pulled – and again, and again. She could feel her body stopping it, the resistance against the queen's hand as she continued to tug; attempting to rip it from her chest, only Emma's body wouldn't let her.

"What?" The frown that had formed on the queen's face was confused and askew as she pulled harder, and Emma felt as if her chest was about to collapse on itself – the pressure was great and painful, and she groaned in protest. Beside her, Hook was still yelling at things, attempting to break free of the guards that restricted his arms and legs, but Emma stopped listening.

All that Emma could think about in this moment was Henry – how she'd dreamt of his smile and the way he breathed when she saw him sleeping, and if he was happy where he was, if Regina treated him well. It was all that mattered, until images of the sea and ships flashed before her eyes. Her head spun for a second longer before she felt her feet on the ground again, and the queen's hand gripping her heart, still trying to take it from her.

Another wave of warmth coursed through her body before a ripple of light flashed through the room, blinding every man in it – including Emma. They all groaned in distress, shielding their eyes before another, this time sending them all off of their feet and away, Hook going with them. The queen was on the ground at the other end of the room, and she must have hit her head because she didn't move. _This _was their opportunity. Emma always got out of things in a strange fashion, but at least it worked.

_What the hell was that anyway_?

"Hook?" Emma shouted amongst the chaos of the scrambling knights, but they'd all fallen over themselves, some even rendered unconscious. She spotted the pirate under a mess of armoured men, stretching his arm to her, and Emma grabbed hold of his hand to pull him out.

"You are bloody brilliant," he said through heavy huffs of breath. He got to his feet and was about to brush the dust from his pants before Emma caught his elbow and pulled him from the room, stepping over the piles of guards and the queen.

"We have to _go_!" she told him, breaking into a sprint. She didn't care which direction they headed, so long as it got them as far away from the queen as possible, and out of the castle. They needed to get back to the portal.

"What happened back there, Swan?" Hook suddenly asked from behind her as Emma whipped around a corner, her hood flying off her head. "That bit of magic there." He paused to contemplate his next thought. "And your heart…"

"I don't think now's the time, Hook," she interrupted. Her feet were carrying her faster now with each step. "How about we talk about that when we get back to your ship – I promise_._" _There are a lot of things you must know that I don't, pirate_. There were a lot of things Emma wanted to know.

Around and through the castle they went, running briskly. After what felt like eternity _again_, Emma felt a cold wind on her face when they finally reached the outside of the castle, but they didn't stop. Emma could see the maze in the distance underneath the dark sky, the stars glittering endlessly above them. She felt as if her legs were going to fall right from her body, and she could tell that Hook felt the same. When she peered over her shoulder at him, she could see a limp in his sprint, but that didn't hinder him much.

When they had arrived at the maze, Emma reached out and grabbed Hook by his hand and pulled him in. There was no time for navigating – instead, she took the risk of jumping through the leaves. If they were quick about it, they could make it through before they shriveled up and overcome them, so Emma didn't stop. She was dragging Hook through them, their feet leaving the ground in leaps as they bound through one shrub and the next, not stopping to watch as the twigs and leaves seared behind them.

"STOP! THIEVES!" It was the queen, and she was gaining on them fast, bursts of fire emitting from her fingers, blowing away her maze. The bushes burned up and fell away into piles of ashes as she chased after them, almost as if her feet were not touching the ground. She was catching up quickly, and Emma's legs felt like jelly wobbling beneath the weight of her body as they went full speed. There was a burst of hot air as flames zipped past their heads, both of them ducking out of the way just in time before falling through another set of leaves.

"Keep going, Hook," Emma said, almost more to herself than to at the pirate beside her, as if they needed reminding. There was another burst of flames, but this time at their feet, and both had managed to leap over, instead allowing more of the maze to set itself ablaze. There was little of it left, and the smell of smoke settled in Wonderland, and Emma saw large clouds of black mist seeping into the night sky, hiding the glistening stars behind it. Never in her life had Emma wished for her own magic than now. In all of her years, she saw magic as a burden, a curse – but it would have come in handy _right about now_.

They didn't stop when they broke free of the maze, Hook and Emma shielding their faces with their arms as they fell through, and they were back in the field of mushrooms. They were moving this time; much like the grass was when they'd entered – like they were watching them pass. The queen didn't take her time igniting those as well. The light from the fires lit the air around them in a dangerous orange glow that Emma wished was the sunrise, but there was no sign of the sun in the sky; only the black clouds of smoke rippling against the dark velvet night.

The queen was shouting and groaning in fury as she threw more magic at them: at their feet, their heads, their surroundings, but never them. Either she had bad aim, or meant to miss in order to send them into a panic, but Emma and Hook managed to keep as much stability as they could, despite the mad sprinting. Nevertheless, there were certainly many close calls that alarmed Emma as she ducked her head out of the way. Her hand clutched the strap of her satchel tightly, ensuring that it was still around her shoulders. She could see the mushrooms transform into the grass where the caterpillar sat – he was gone now, an empty mushroom sitting in front of the mirror at the end of the road, its ominous purple glow calling to her.

"Quicker, love," Hook urged her from her side, and he gave her a little nudge in the back with his hook.

"Don't think you'd get away so easy!" the queen yelled as she caught up to them. When Emma glanced over her shoulder, she could see through the side of her eye that she was conjuring something – her hands were out in front of her and then Emma was falling through the mirror.

She outstretched her arm as far as she could in search of Hook's hand, and she saw it. Their fingers grazed one another's but then she slipped away through the portal. "HOOK!" she called, but he didn't answer. _The same number of people who go in must come out together_. Emma knew that Hook fell through, but together she wasn't certain, an unsettling in her stomach as she plummeted, much like their arrival in Wonderland. Except this time, Emma was alone, and she hoped that the portal would return her to where she came from.

Emma had no idea what sort of magic was done by the queen, but whatever it was, she prayed that it didn't make it through the portal, or that her target wasn't Hook. Emma still had his heart – she grabbed around to ensure that it was still slung over her shoulder before the air was knocked out from her lungs and her vision grew darker and darker before fading to complete darkness.

* * *

The pounding in Emma's head was far too much to bear as she blinked her eyes open. All she could see were ripples of sunlight through treetops and it smelled of wet grass. Next to her, there was a stream, the clear water flowing freely over the pebbles and rocks making the sweet familiar sound Emma always heard when she'd awoken in the mornings. She squinted at the sun and looked around – she was surrounded by giant trees on all sides of her, and her belongings were scattered across the mud.

Emma brought herself upright and collected her things, her muddy cloak getting in the way as she plucked her bow and quiver from the ground, slinging it across her shoulder. There seemed to be something missing, though. "_Hook_?" Emma shouted desperately, spinning on the spot, but there was no sign of the pirate. Surely if he was there, he wouldn't have gotten up and traipsed away – at least, not without his heart; he could have left her with her face in the mud and she wouldn't have been in the least bit surprised or confused. Instead, worry wrenched at her insides as to where he had gone. _She _had his heart, and he needed it back. Emma still hadn't held up her end of the bargain.

"I beg your pardon," said a polite, low voice behind her.

Out of instinct, Emma immediately drew her bow and whipped around. Her arrow was pointed at a stout, balding man carefully approaching her with both of his hands outstretched in the air, palms facing her. Despite the frantic look on his face, Emma didn't lower her bow. Her fingers wrapped delicately around the feathered end of the arrow just in case, and she took in a deep breath.

"I don't mean to bring any harm if that's what you're afraid of."

_I'm not afraid_. "Who are you?"

"Just a man who happened to be passing by." That didn't answer the question.

Emma's lips pursed together secretly, her name not wanting to leave her lips. She had no idea how far she was from Regina's kingdom, or if she was in the same world at all – there was no telling with portals. How did this man find her anyway? Her head spun with too many questions that she _needed_ answers to. "How did you find me?"

He seemed confused by her hard inquiries, Emma's stare long and cold. "Well, I saw something falling from this great dark hole above the trees and came out to investigate."

_Seemed reasonable enough_.

"We should get you to town before the sheriff finds you, milady. Perhaps we can discuss matters further when we do." He beckoned Emma along, clearly still wary of his own movements, stepping on thin ice as Emma held her bow at him. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Where am I?" The last and final question that was burning inside of Emma's head; all trees looked the same no matter where she went, but this place felt different. The smells were not the same, nor were the sounds. The way the shadows stretched across the ground was very unfamiliar to her.

"Why, you're in Sherwood Forest, milady. Where else did you think you were?"

Emma lowered her bow to her waist, her jaw falling open. _Oh, hell_.

* * *

_**A/N:** Uh ohhh, looks like Emma might get herself into some trouble~_

_I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who read this. I know it's hard to sometimes get back into things that you haven't read in a long time, and I apologize for taking so long to post. Real life got in the way, and then my muse had a drunken night and disappeared somewhere. I hope you enjoyed, though! I appreciate every single reader of mine! This was my favourite chapter to write, and the one I've been looking forward to writing since I started this. Thank you all so much again, and please if you can, leave a review! Those always motivate me as a writer to write more and do better for you all. Muah! xoxo_


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